I got chased by a pit-bull this morning on my walk. And before you all go writing me and telling me how pit-bulls are just as nice as collies but simply misunderstood, please note that when you’re being chased by one in an alley, you don’t much think about the society’s misgivings on this harmless breed.
See, there’s this route I take on my walks sometimes when I don’t want to get too far from the house in case of rain. As this morning was cloudy and misty, I leashed up my handsome dog, Cowboy, and set out to walk laps around four creepy-ish blocks beside my house. By creepy-ish, I mean there are warehouses on one block, and houses that are going to fall over any day now on the other block. Oh, and there’s a section where you’ve got warehouses on either side of you and it’s like you’re walking through an alley where gangs probably hang out in the evenings when they have to discuss gang stuff.
Here’s a picture I took a few days ago. This is right in front of the houses in my neighborhood, and you can see in the background where the creepy-ish section of the block starts. (I took the picture because I thought it was funny that Cowboy was pooping right next to a poop bag dispenser.)
The always helpful aerial shot:
(Note: When I recounted the dog chasing story to my husband this morning, I didn’t even get to the good part before he cut me off and goes, “Wait – you walk that block alone? I didn’t know you did that! I wouldn’t recommend that –“ and then I cut him off and go, “Please let me finish my story.” And then when I was finished he told me I am not to walk there alone ever again. So what I’m saying is, please enjoy this story as there will not be any more like it in the future.)
So I’m walking in the sketchiest part of the already scary four blocks, and I notice one of the warehouse garage doors is open. And so I walk quickly, right? Because I’m like, “Nobody’s kidnapping me today, suckas!” (I’m crazy scared of being kidnapped.) The good news is, nobody tried to kidnap me. The bad news is, as soon as I passed the open door, this pit-bull comes running after me and my handsome labradoodle, who is in no mood to fight a pit.
I turned around and saw our impending doom.
Thought 1: RUN!
Thought 2: DON’T RUN! IT’LL TRIGGER HIS CHASE INSTINCTS.
Thought 3: Should I mace him? Can you mace a dog? I bet I’ll end up spraying my own face.
Thought 4: I’m going to end up on the news.
And that’s when I shouted, “GO!” and raised my hands up in the air trying to wave him off and make myself look really big like they tell you to do in the hiking books when you spy a grizzly. Yes, I was mixing up my animals and even species, but you do what you have to do, people.
I kept walking rapidly, and the dog followed. Again, he ran toward us. And I went crazy.
“GOOOOO! GOOOO! GOOOO!” I flailed my arms and walked even faster, lamenting that I’d never be able to wear shorts again once my legs were mauled by a warehouse dog.
But because the Lord chose to let me live another day on this earth, once I rounded the corner onto the street with the dilapidated houses, the dog stopped charging us. Then I saw some utility workers and I felt kind of weird about all the shouting that had just taken place. “Morning,” I nodded, out of breath from shouting and pure fear-induced adrenaline.
They half waved, and then Cowboy stopped to poop right beside their trucks. Poor guy. He really did have the poop scared out of him.
Thankfully I was there to pick it up.