The other night my husband, Wayne, and I took our dog, Murphy, and headed out for what we thought was going to be a fun adventure. It was an adventure all right, but not one I’d wish on anyone.
We belong to a group called Team Green. They regularly meet up for various activities. Around full moons, they often meet at local trails for Full Moon Hikes. Of course, this is a perfect opportunity for dogs to come along and many owners bring theirs.
We pulled up a little after the 7:30 meeting time and were relieved to see they hadn’t left yet. Likewise, we were pleased to see such a big turn out. (It was a brisk 36 degrees, but over 20 people showed up.) Murph was happy because he instantly spotted the half dozen other dogs.
The first dog who came to greet us did so off leash but with a wagging tail and playful demeanor. At first. Then he showed signs of aggression. Having had dogs most of my life, this is not an uncommon phenomenon. I deftly maneuvered Murph away from him and firmly used my words to order the other dog on his way. No harm, no foul.
Not a minute later that same dog (I’ll call him Loosie) got aggressive towards another dog, but this time the consequences were much more severe. The other dog’s owner (hereinafter referred to as Boots) responded with a kick.
I didn’t see the kick, but I heard it. I only registered what the thud was when the rest of the crowd gasped. There was still some commotion, so now I did look and to my horror saw Boots continuing to kick Loosie full force in the ribs. With hiking boots! Over and over even though by this time Loosie was cowering against the wheel of a car and Boots’ dog was out of harm’s way.
My reaction? I screamed, “Don’t kick the dog!” and apparently tried to rush over, but my husband held me back. (This part is all a blur. I was so upset to see the dog getting kicked that my only thought was to stop that.)
The response Boots gave was appropriate: “He’s attacking my dog! What do you want me to do?”
I have been in his shoes. One time when my Cocker Spaniel Budly was alive, a loose husky came out of nowhere, grabbed him by the throat, and started shaking. My reaction then was the same as Boots was last night. First I screamed, then my puppy-Mama strength kicked in and using my legs and everything else I had, I lashed out at the husky to break his release on Budly. But once they were separated, I ceased and desisted. Then I hustled my dog away.
Breaking up a fight that’s turning vicious is the thing to do. I would kick too, but only to separate. Boots was going for the kill. And I can understand his rage and passion. We don’t like to see our loved ones hurt and naturally want to defend them, but there is a stopping point. Especially because his dog was going to live. If he had kept kicking like he had, Loosie might not have. At the very least he would have (maybe did, I don’t know) suffered broken ribs.
Everyone else was content to stand back and let the guy kick. (Maybe not content, but no one else interfered.) Maybe I was wrong too. Maybe I was out of line. But if me, a five foot two inch female was able to handle Loosie and my own dog and prevent an incident, why couldn’t he?
What’s really sad is, the whole thing could have been prevented if Loosie had been on a leash, or at least under better control, to start with. As it turned out, Boots left and so did we. Only Loosie and his owner stayed to partake in the hike.
What had held promise of being a fun way to spend a night with my family turned into a tearful ride home with me worrying about both parties. I hope Boots’ dog was okay and I hope Loosie was too. Again, I don’t begrudge Boots his initial reaction. I just wish he had controlled the rest of it a little better. And I hope Loosie’s owner learns from this, too, and in the future is more responsible about leashing.
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