A Scary Encounter

No, I'm talking even more scary than a sweaty, red-faced me with a stick.

Let me start from the beginning. I've been meaning to make my weekday runs a bit longer, but I have the same route that keeps me in the same 3-mile rut. So last night, I took Duke for a little car ride and mapped out a path that took me exactly 2.5 miles away for a total of 5 miles round- trip...perfect! No possibility of skipping a lap and heading back to the car sooner (like at the park), no turning down questionable gravel roads just to get 5 or 10 more minutes added on to the run, and best of all, less hills!...And I was ready, mentally prepared, looking forward to my 5-mile out-and-back. The only problem (and the thing that had held me back from branching out of my usual route) was that I had to venture out onto the main highway that travels through Henderson which is kind of a busy road and of course, no sidewalks on a highway...but what's the worst that could happen, right?...right?

So, about 7:45 this evening, I head out. It's starting to cool off a bit outside, and I'll have just enough time to get back before dark. I'm about a mile into my run (I'm on the main highway at this point), I'm enjoying the change of scenery, and the steady stream of cars passing every few minutes makes for a nice breeze. Just then, I see a classic, stereotypical Arkansas image. Picture this: Run-down house, man on front porch (shirtless), beer-belly hanging out, trashy run-down cars scattered around the yard...I'm rolling my eyes a little as I trot along, thinking, it's people like you that give us a bad reputation (this is probably where I doomed myself with bad karma or something). I'm just a little around the corner from the house when I suddenly hear something approaching me fast from behind, and I mean FAST...I could tell immediately that it wasn't fatboy...or anything human for that matter. I turn my head slightly and see a white blur of a dog charging at me, and not just any dog. This was a pit bull, and they don't play. The only time I've ever seen a pit bull playful and submissive is with Cesar Millan, and he's pack leader/dog whisperer. I guarantee this pit bull didn't belong to a dog whisperer.



I try to remember what you're supposed to do when you're being attacked by a dog. I slow down, turn around to face him (trying not to make eye contact) and try to make myself look big (or is that what you're supposed to do when you encounter a bear?). I say, "NO! NO!" In my meanest, gruffest voice....NOT a good idea. At this point he charges at me, his bark getting louder, and he's sensing my fear.

NOTE: This is not the first time I've encountered a viciously barking dog on a run, but for normal dogs, all you have to do is talk in a squeaky voice and they're immediately wagging their tails...they can't help it. I knew that a squeaky voice was not going to work on this one.

Anyway, somewhere in the shuffle, he has backed me onto that highway I was telling you about. I now have flashbacks of stories I've heard on TV about pit bulls tearing faces off and having an arm for dessert. I'm dreading how bad it's going to hurt when he bites me and subsequently tears me to shreds (because once they start attacking almost nothing stops them) and hoping that a car doesn't come around the corner and kill us both (well if it killed him, I wouldn't have cared at that point to be honest). All the while I'm yelling at him in my meanest voice, knowing that tubby is just around the corner, and he must be hearing his vicious dog and my fearful voice. I finally yell, "Somebody HELP ME!!!" Here comes tubby, he yells his dog's name and immediately the dog turns around and runs home. I look at the man and in my meanest voice yell, "YOU KEEP HIM INSIDE!!!!!!!!" I'm pretty sure the guy saw devil horns and a tail sprout from me...I was disgustingly mad and he knew it.

About 20 more steps and I could've turned down my sister's road, ran to her doorstep, begged for a bottle of water and a ride home, and lived happily ever after (which is exactly what I wanted to do), but no, I wasn't going to let this stop me. I had prepared for this run all day. So, I had to keep going; stopping would have cut my run 4 miles short.

I continue on, formulating a plan. The dude will have the dog inside when I come back through, right? Well, just in case I better have something more than my arm to fight him off. I start looking at sticks along the way, large and small. Then I see a big rock. That would hurt him, I thought (I've never wanted to hurt anything so bad in my life), but it would be hard to run with a big rock in my hands, and what if my aim isn't good...I'll be no better off than my last encounter. Maybe I'll go to Kim's house on the way home, then I'll only be about a mile short of my goal...NO I'll just find a stick.

As get close to turning back on the main highway, and in turn, closer to the pit bull's house. I find a nice stick. I was thinking about beating him senseless until I notice the end of the stick was very pointy. Then I thought, Maybe I should use more of a stabbing approach.

Disclaimer: You have to understand, I have never thought so hard about harming another living being as much as I thought about harming this dog (except maybe which flip-flop I would use to kill a spider). But, I knew that this dog meant business, and it would be my only chance to defend myself. Plus, he's not even going to be out there anymore...I'm just being overly cautious. Maybe I should just leave the stick. It's kind of making me look like a wild banshee.

I approach the house. I'm on the opposite side of the street this time. I think I'm in the clear when suddenly, I see him. He gets up and starts running step-for-step with me just on the other side of the road. I see him glance to the right and left (he was looking for cars to see if he could cross the street!), and he took his first steps to dart across the road. Immediately, I'm in defense mode. I raise the stick and yell, "GET OUT OF HERE!!!"...over and over. I swing the stick a bit, and he's definitely not charging as bravely as he was last time, but he's still not backing down and going home. Just as he's getting close enough for striking range, tubby comes to the rescue again, calling his dog and telling him to "Leave her alone!" To the dog's credit, he listened immediately and headed home again.

I struggled the last mile home, weakened by the declining adrenaline rush and still shaking a bit. But now that I'm home and looking back on it, I find myself so incredibly thankful for a few things:

1. However neglectful the dog's owner seemed, at least he did eventually hear my cries. Without him finally calling the dog, I would have been bitten, or worse...without a doubt in my mind.

2. I didn't end up in the emergency room...here...or anywhere...but some of you know what I mean.

3. I didn't have my dogs with me. I often take them when I do my 3 mile runs, but since it was still hot, I was going farther than usual, and I was taking a new route, I decided against taking them. If they would've been with me, they would have been in full defense and protect mode and there's no way I could have stopped the fight that would have likely left my dogs seriously injured or worse. For that, I cannot tell you how grateful I am.

Moral of the story: 1. keep your crazy (ahem pit bull ahem) dogs on leashes or in well fenced backyards. 2. Never go for a run without pepper spray, a pistol, a machete, a giant stick which can double as a spear, or some other form of weaponry...you never know what you'll encounter. 3. Maybe a 3-mile rut isn't such a bad thing after all.