Today, the dogs take me out as usual, for our morning walk. Readers unfamiliar with our dogs have to understand that they are both small terriers. One is a fourteen year old, black, white and skinny Jack Russel and the other, a rather furry over-weight Norwich Terrier now approaching his twelth birthday and badly needing his spring shave. You can read more about them and their training on the following link:
I am musing during this particular walk; it is the first of the two dog walks taken each day over the last 14 years and that, calculating from the 1st Feb to 31st January at an average of, say, 4 kilometers per day - adjusted by an occasional "wife walk" (which is much shorter!) when I am away , birthdays and leap years - (365days x 2/day = 730 walks per year x 14 yrs = 10,220 walks at a daily average of 2 klms per walk = a phenominal 20,440 klms, roughly speaking or, for those at home, 13,627 miles or approximately 15.5 times the distance by road from John O'Groats to Land's End! Did you get that?
Fifteen point five times the distance by road between John O'Groats and Lands End - that, is true dedication!
But I hardly complete 50 yards this morning when behind us I hear great shouting, a barking noise and rushing of feet. Before I have time to do anything about it, a huge German Shepherd dog rushes up to us, showing every sign of fierce aggression and sinister intent. It circum-navigates my waving arms and picks up poor Teddy (the fat, furry Norwich Terrier) in his mouth, by his back, and shakes him like he would kill a rat. Death must surely follow.
Quickly following the aggressor is his owner. A youth of some 18 years of age - dangling a useless lead in his hands - grabs his dog by the collar and starts to beat the beast viciously until he finally opens his mouth to release his "prey" - and all this takes, after what seems to be 5 minutes - probably only one and a half.
The youth is beside himself with rage and continues to beat his dog hard until I am prompted to remonstrate with him - and am beginning to feel sorry for the animal for what must have been an action done in all innocence and probably because of innappropriate training or backgound experiences.
Teddy, by some querk of fortune, seems completely unharmed and unaffected by the ordeal and struts off with a quick shake of his thick coat which must have been what saved him. The youth is suitably shame-faced and apologetic. I continue to quiver for an hour, until the extra adrenalin, now useless, has been dispersed into my blood stream.
We abort the walk and even Spud, who has just watched this carnage from the sidelines, seems to be relieved as we return home. I murder a cup of strong coffee and ruminate over what might have been; concluding that if the beast had chosen skinny Spud rather than fat Teds - his life long friend - the resultant injuries - at least a punctured lung - probably would have been fatal.
Dangerous dogs like this one should, at the very least, be muzzled before putting others in danger of their lives, but it really ain't all plain sailing y'know, is it?