Old Fears

Lucy, our last dog, was attacked on three occasions by three different "packs" of pit bulls—always a gang of two. Although I don't blame the dogs (but the horribly negligent owners), I have an ingrained fear of pits because of those incidents. And it is the last attack where one dog took on Lucy's front and the other her rear that is seared into my brain.

So imagine my fear while walking Bella and K2 (whom I was caring for), when two pits rushed us. One backed off immediately, but not the other. K2 was at the end of her leash trying to distance herself while Bella was the target. The dog did not attack, but was growling, aggressive and kept his head over her shoulders. Bella's tail was tucked and in no mood to argue. I was trying to position myself between them (not smart), screaming and kicking at him while the owner was yelling and trying to grab him.

When the owner was able to separate him, I told her she had better leash her dogs; she had no business allowing them loose. She told me to get off her property. Huh? I'm walking in the middle of a city street with two leashed and licensed dogs. This is public property, ma'am, and your dogs are loose and aggressive. Déjà vu. It was too scary to relive this kind of scenario with Bella. I have woken each morning since and that dog is the first thing that comes to mind.