Well, it’s been a few hours, so I’m much more settled now. But earlier today, I drew my .38, sighted the dog bearing down on me while snarling, and…luckily for EvilDog, SHE turned away from me with about a half second to spare(about 12 feet). She? EvilDog? Wasn’t I concerned with ‘Clem’ & his out of control male dog, ‘Cujo’ 3 weeks ago? Yes, I was. Turns out I live in dangerous times.
You should know, I am no ‘gun nut’, not a 2nd Amendment trumps everything kinda guy, and honestly hope to never kill another living being. I bought my first weapon in 1989 after a scare while camping in a remote part of Mendocino National Forest. It was just me, my dogs, and Mr. Drunk Man who wanted my camping gear—in the middle of nowhere, 30 miles from town in the woods. The gun was/is a short barreled 12 gauge shotgun with a pistol-grip—the short of weapon preferred by most 7-11 stick up artists & Quentin Tarantino movie villains. It has served me well, coming along on every camping trip—which was many—since. Other than that, it never left the closet, where it sat, unloaded & trigger locked. And it was never brandished or even shown to anyone. Never needed to…
I was an urban Paramedic in a large west coast city for my adult career. I went into the projects at 1am for shooting victims many, many times. I’ve had knives pulled on me, been assaulted a couple dozen times by drunks, had angry crowds of 100 people yelling at me that I took much too long to arrive on the scene, and seen the bloody carnage that a person beaten to death leaves. Decapitations, jumpers from the 12th floor, dudes hit by a car at 70 mph, seen what an out of control Cable Car does to feet(it amputates them), watched someone puke up their entire stomach lining along with 2 liters of digested blood, and watched the AIDS crisis unfold before my very eyes. Cars full of dead kids, dead babies, dead middle agers, dead old folks…I’ve seen enough to know you’ll never see it all. Ever heard of “101 California Street”? That mass shooting led DiFi to push for the assault weapons ban… (We’re talking carnage like a movie scene, I hope you never bear witness to anything remotely close.) I say all this because, well, I’ve seen shit, ok? I’ve done stuff. Some of the stuff I’ve seen and done have greatly affected my psyche, THAT kinda stuff.
Having just said all of the above, I never felt the need to arm myself as I traveled through life. From my perspective, handguns are for only one thing—killing people & other living things. Sometimes justified, sometimes not, always the same outcome-death. I didn’t want to be a killer no matter what-hell, my license plate was even “LfSaver” for a while. My career was for one thing only: snatching folks from the yawning Jaws of Death. Ameliorate pain. Stop the suffering, and get your ass to definitive medical care. I was accepted by all, everywhere I went because I was one of The Good Guys. Were you unconscious because of your diabetes? I’m your man. Heroin O.D.? Call me. Chest pain, stroke, asthma, croup, febrile seizure, ruptured ovarian cyst, kidney stone, fell off your roof, gonna have your baby on the sofa? I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible, and I’ll help you as best I can—which was all that stood between you & your Maker more often than not. Black, white, gay, straight, young, old, wonderfully scented or rotting your own flesh-made no difference to me. You are my human brother or sister, we share the sun. And to do any of those life-saving things, I sure didn’t need a handgun. To walk among you, I didn’t need a gun. To talk, laugh, cry, argue, bitch, support, drive, eat at a restaurant, or well, …anything we did, I didn’t need a gun. Nope, didn’t need a handgun.
Ok, cue up the violin music: I retired because of a disability incurred on my job (which sucked more than words can say), and shortly thereafter, I watched my wife die from cancer. My in-laws fucked me outta more money than I knew I had. They bad mouthed me to anyone who would listen. They were able to change the deed on my house (via a misguided ‘Power of Attorney’ from my wife 3 weeks before she passed.), so as to own half of it after my wife died. I spent $35k on ATTORNEY’S FEES in 2006. Remember, I was a civil servant, not a trust fund baby, so I didn’t really have $35k to spend on lawyers. So I moved. I left my geographic home of 26 years, and moved to the middle of nowhere in Colorado. Fuck it, I thought. I spend my life helping people I don’t even know until I can’t anymore, and this is how I end up? Fuck it, fuck you, fuck the world. My nearest neighbor is now 1/3 of a mile away. Nearest grocery store is 22 miles. And I need to arm myself now just to walk my dogs.
First, it was the swastika incident. I had lived here less than 2 years when it occurred. You can read about that in a previous diary I posted. Suffice to say, I simply don’t believe you have the right to scribble swastikas in my (part-time, lousy-paid, back-breaking)workplace. One thing led to another after I reported Nazi Man to my boss, and after the harassing phone calls, I had had enough. I quit. Then I bought a handgun. Then I bought another handgun. Imagine—me, The Fella, owning 2 handguns. Not The Bloods, The Crips or The Mexican Mafia concerned me enough to buy a gun. But here in Hooterville, well, I needed-or felt I needed-a handgun.
In a previous comment thread in Cheers & Jeers, I told the recent story of being attacked by an un-neutered, 100lb German Shepard “ranch dog” while walking my dogs on my daily 5 mile route. Attacked may be too strong a word since nobody went to the Dr. or the Vet, but, hey—anytime a 100lb animal is ‘attacking’ me or my dogs, I’m gonna call it an “Attack!”. You’ll remember…my wife is gone. I have no kids. No girlfriend. Few friends. A stranger in a strange land. All I have is my dogs. And pretty much all I do is walk them, hike with them, and care for them. That’s it. I don’t go to town to drink, party, or meet people. I don’t socialize much at all in fact. I walk with my family(such as it is) and I stay out of the sunshine. I kid you not, that is all I do except go grocery shopping in public. Sad, really.
So when I can’t walk my dogs without fear of attack, I got a problem. I got a big problem and nothing but time to think about it. And after the third time the German Shepard (‘Cujo’) attacked me & my dogs, and I had ‘words’ with ‘Clem’ his owner, I began to wear my .38 holstered on my side while walking. I hate it. Not only do I dislike the weight on my hip, but, damn it, I’m now carrying a gun just to protect myself & my family. For cryin out loud… Luckily, after I had words with Clem telling him his dog will die of ‘lead poisoning’ upon the very next snarling/teeth-barring/barking/physically bumping & rolling around attack, and then he saw me with the means to enforce that dangling from my hip, Clem has kept his dog somewhere safely on his ranch(ok, hay farm, but let’s not quibble here). Happily, I have not seen Cujo for ~3 weeks now.
Which brings us to today.
While walking my dogs on our usual jaunt, I began to approach Clem’s land(I only walk on public roads, ok?). I was about a ¼ mile from his property, near another jerk’s property who owns a dog that is “fence aggressive”. (Fence aggressive isn’t a phrase I just made up. It describes behavior by a dog that is running along a fence, barking, snarling, and trying to escape the fence in order to fight whatever is on the other side of the fence. You could google it even.) This ‘EvilDog’ has always been restrained by the fence, a relatively new & sturdy fence, whether the EvilDog Owner was around or not. Until today. As I approached this area, me and my dogs spotted another dog walker. We all recognized this neighbor and his lil Jack Russell, ‘Gator’. My 9 month old puppy Chris, and her older brotherDog, Fletch, LOVE them some Gator, as they all play while me and Neighbor Man often chat for a few moments. As we neared each other, I made my dogs wait until we were about 50 feet apart, then ‘released’ my dogs to go & play with Gator. Hilarity was about to ensue when out of nowhere, EvilDog slipped through her fence, making a bee-line for all 3 dogs. EvilDog is a ~75-85lb mixed breed dog. EvilDog got to the dogs, and literally chomped on my 30 lb puppy Chris. Neighbor man was right there and twice kicked EvilDog, who let go. I was yelling, Neighbor Man was yelling, and I immediately/simultaneously drew my .38… I guess the hub-bub was enough to scare EvilDog, who went back for a second bite of Chris but thought better of it. This all occurred about 30 feet from me. Then, much to my dismay, EvilDog found a new target—me. She looked at me, and headed straight for me. I sighted the fucker, and yelled “Control your dog!!!” 3 times . As I was yelling this, EvilDog got to within 10-12 feet of me showing me all her teeth, my finger was on the trigger, and I saw the gun sight line up with EvilDog’s chest. Just as I began to squeeze the trigger, EvilDog turned and looked back at the dogs, and turned her course away from me. This took milliseconds. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I didn’t squeeze off a round. My hollow points would have blown a substantial hole through EvilDog. She then ran towards her owner, who was standing in his ‘yard’ watching this unfold. He immediately got his dog behind the gate, and began to berate me for having a gun. WTF? Your pooch just came within a half second of dying because it had attacked my dog and was coming for me, and you’re gonna yell at me? Dude-I HAVE A LOADED GUN IN MY HAND and I happen to be a little amped just now. Please reconsider your position, dumbfuck. Neighbor Man, Gator’s owner, lives 2 properties down from EvilDog, and has had previous run-ins with her. Hence he knows EvilDog’s owner. He looked at me and said “Fella, that would have been totally justifiable.”, regarding my shooting of the dog. I quickly checked Lil Chris, who was still yelping. No blood, but she had two spots of dog spit on her, where EvilDog had her. She stopped crying, but when I palpated those wet spots, she yelped again. My diagnosis? Bruised, not bitten. Yay.
Now, I may not be the smartest fella or even the most mentally stable. But I knew I was jacked up, and had a douchebag rural-dwelling hick yelling at me, a friend nearby, a gun back on my hip…staying there woulda been a mistake. So I walked away. Quickly. And into the area where Cujo lives. I was thinking “I am sooo ready to kill something”…but, lucky for everyone, Cujo was not around.
We walked the remaining 2-1/2 miles home and I called Neighbor Man. He said he talked to EvilDog’s Owner, who thinks the Second Amendment sucks, guns suck, and now I suck. And he readily admits that his dog attacked mine unprovoked, and came at me-on a public road. Neighbor Man told EvilOwner that I had just spoken to the Sherriff & Animal Control 3 weeks ago, and was told I may protect my life and my property “by any means necessary”—the very reason I was even carrying a weapon. And further, that EvilOwner may want to think twice before calling the Sheriff on me(for packing a gun), as he would be ticketed for his dog being “At large”, AND told I did everything correctly.
Ahh, Country Living—ain’t it Grand?
And just so you know, no dogs were injured today. Tomorrow, I will walk again-it is what I do. I will not be scared off by attacking dogs OR Hay-farming rural-dwellers with a death wish.
Thanks for reading my rant. Some days I just don’t know about all you folks. May I please just exist here in my little micro-world without any further attacks? Please?
Full Disclosure: Some names have been changed or fabricated to protect an ignorant douchenozzle's last shred of decency, dignity, and/or humanity.
And I think my sig line says it all.