Remember my little dog Sam? He’s going to be 3 in May.
Like most dogs, Sammie was born with a pair of sparkly black eyes. And he was a perfectly healthy, normal, active occasionally naughty fellow like every other dog that you probably have ever met.
Shortly after Sammie’s second birthday I took him to a park at Lower Pierce Reservoir where I kept him on a leash and we sat on the bench overlooking the reservoir enjoying a quiet evening.
As with all nice parks, people will bring their nice dogs to a nice park. A lady with her Standard Poodle and Miniature Poodle came trotting over with tails wagging towards me and Sam. The owner was several metres behind and her dogs were NOT ON LEASH. Sammie, being the usual friendly fellow, welcomed them with happy wagging tail.
WITHOUT WARNING, her Standard Poodle had reached my dog and me and before I could react, he had bitten Sam on the head tearing out his left eyeball.
Yes when it happened she was shocked. She and her husband accompanied me to the animal hospital. They paid all the hospital bills. SHE CRIED, SAID HER DOG NEVER ATTACKED ANYTHING IN HIS LIFE. They said they were SORRY.
Yes I remember that they said sorry while Sam screamed and cried all the way to the hospital. I remembered they said sorry when then the vet told us she couldn’t save his eye. I remembered they said sorry while I watched him sleeping in his cot whimpering in his sleep. I remembered they said sorry when I couldn’t make Sam walk. He peed in his bed and didn’t dare to take a single step for two entire days after he was discharged from hospital. I remembered they said sorry when he refused to eat, refused to drink, yelped out in surprise everytime I walked by his left side. They said sorry when I brought Sam repeatedly to the vet because his wounds wouldn’t heal. Yes I remembered they said sorry when I realised that it was really impossible for me to ever again bring Sam to a doggie cafe, to a doggie run, to the dog beach, to a doggie birthday because everytime I see a dog approach Sam, I just panic. And while they are probably somewhere out there happily walking their dog all I have are their sincerest apologies for every time that I feel sad whenever Sam gives me a cheeky one-eyed smile.
If I could go back to that evening almost a year ago, I would do anything to be standing where she was standing, having done anything to prevent her dog from coming near. I want to stand there in disbelief. And say that I had NEVER ATTACKED ANYTHING IN MY LIFE. I want to say that I WAS SORRY. I was SORRY I hurt your dog. I was SORRY I couldn’t give you back your dog. I was SORRY you DIDN’T LEASH YOUR DOG so that this wouldn’t have to happen.
Big dog owners have actually tried to tell me that Sammie might have provoked an attack as logically and calmly as how some people ask rape victims whether they had done anything to trigger an attack. Do these people go up to parents whose children have been mauled by dogs that their children might have provoked a vicious attack? No. They will just say they are SORRY.
How many times have I heard big dog owners say that their dogs have never hurt a fly? They say that and then when something happens, they add on a sentence: They’re SORRY. SO SORRY. So SORRY your child was hurt. So SORRY your dog was hurt. So SORRY you were hurt.
I’d rather hear that you were out there and that it was your INTENTION to get someone hurt. That you liked to see it happen. That you wanted it to happen and that you were not SORRY that it happened. That whatever small useless dog or small defenseless child deserved it because they must have jumped on your dog, they must have pulled its ears, they must have been noisy, irritating, something.
That way I’d know that nobody suffered because you were merely ignorant, you were merely stupid, careless, and that every ounce I hate I feel towards you and every legal step I take to ensure that your dog is destroyed was justified.
Leash your dog. Such a simple act. That way we can be friends. We can talk and I can get to know how your large best friend is more love than fur and teeth. I want to meet you first before your dog, not the other way round. Then I know that I can trust your dog and you can trust mine. If all goes well, Sammie could have a friendly giant for a friend and your big dog could have a tiny buddy.
Is that so difficult? Just a simple clip of the leash. So many tears need not have been wasted. And there would not be any need for SORRY.
Butterfly Effect 