Pets

I almost titled this post “trauma.” But then I felt guilty like trauma should only be used for the really awful horrendous things. Not the “no big deal” things I deal with. And then a different part of me says “hey you can respect the sorrows you’ve lived through even while understanding life could be worse.”

So I battled for a while and ended up calling it “pets.”

I was with a friend this morning and our dogs. We were walking circles in the dog park. Gabo prefers to just smell stuff. If she engages with other dogs, her favorite game is to run in circles. At the dog park, she has no interest in the wrestling games where other dogs put their paws and weight on her. She does have a few friends she will wrestle with, but it is not her thing mostly.

So Gabo walked in circles with me, sniffed a few things, and tried to get a beagle to run with her, but two bigger dogs always came along, and Gabo would growl not wanting them to get on top of her. So she mostly just stayed with me.

When it was time to go, I crouched down, and she ran over. I leashed her and waited for my friend. My friend’s dog was playing with another dog.

Then suddenly it was four or five dogs, and two were being really aggressive. And I froze. Do I separate them? Is a dog going to get hurt? Should I help? Where ON EARTH are their owners? And then one of the dogs (with similar coloring and stature (but smaller) of the dog who attacked Gabo last year) opened its wide powerful jaws attached to its muscular neck and got on top of another dog, and I picked up Gabo and ran.

I flew through the fence gate, raced across the street, fled behind the bushes, set down my dog, collapsed, and just sobbed. So many people were staring at me, walking by with their baby strollers and their shopping bags, with their canes and their own dogs, and I just couldn’t stop crying.

My friend got her own dog out, found me, and let me cry. Gratefully, she was able to share the report that all the owners showed up and no dogs were injured.

I was able to stop crying, and we walked home. And my beautiful dog is next to me unhurt.

The terror is still circling in my chest. The tears are still threatening to overflow. The memories of this morning mixed with a year ago are swirling like a sandstorm through my brain. My fear that Gabo could die. That I could get hurt. My guilt that I didn’t protect my dog. All the pee—all the poop—covering the dogs, the floor, me. The blood. Mine. Hers. Two of my children screaming. One of my children trying to help me get the dogs apart causing more fear that the dog might let go of my dog and attack my child instead. One of my children sprinting to a neighbor to ask for help. My own dog terrified and biting at anything to stop the pain but the only thing she could reach was me since I was on the ground with them trying to get the other dog to release its jaws from my dog’s chest/neck. My fear, my fear, my fear. My guilt. My fear.

Still so fresh. Hurtling around and hurting inside my chest.

I am grateful no human or dog was hurt today. I am grateful for a friend who let me cry with compassion and concern rather than judgement or derision.

And I’m surprised at how quickly those feelings and memories came back and rendered me powerless.