A Dart at Dusk

Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.

It’s late. I’m weary, but loathe to deny him… my faithful friend, Hudson. Impulsively, I bypass the cul-de-sac. An aerobic uphill beckons us. We’re up for it! Our world is tranquil… birds chittering, jasmine wafting past my black, Labrador’s twitching, wet nose.

We’re undeterred, unconcerned when an Alsatian and Border Collie erupt in a frenzy of barking. Upright... full stretch against the pool fence. Their bark is impressive, but their bite always remains imprisoned behind their sturdy barricade.

We barely bat an eyelid. Not fearless. We have no cause to fear.

Until…

a hurtling furry missile catches the corner of my eye. A silent, speeding bullet in the form of a muscular Rottweiler flies straight at the fence, laser sight set on my defenceless, oblivious, Old Boy! Suddenly, the security of our solitary state shatters.

Even before the assassin flawlessly clears its jump like a pedigree Show Jumper, I attack with my only available weapon… my voice. Growling in my best ‘Top Dog’ tone, I alternate with desperate, cracked record yells of

HELP!

Terror unerringly hits a perfect bullseye! Gaping jaws latch and lock over the top of my hapless ‘puppy’s’ neck.

“Never join a dog fight” runs on an infinity loop through my incredulous mind.

What dog fight?

Crushed beneath the bundle of muscle, my bewildered boy lies still and silent… bleeding out?

My cries of,

Help!

are unanswered… carrying futilely away on the wind which I no longer call my friend. Instinctively, arrow prayers ascend to Heaven.

There!

My frantic gaze focuses upon one new, leather collar adorning our attacker’s straining neck. Releasing my dog’s leash, I grip and haul on the collar… to no avail! Straddling the Rottie’s back, my dominant hand clamps around its snout and squeezes. Hard!

Yes! His jaws ease open, just a fraction. Instantly, I reef Terror away from my unresisting pet, who slithers out from under. Slinging my leg at him, I order my stalwart puppy,

GO!

Off balance, I tumble onto my side, knee grazing the bitumen… unfelt in the furor. My precious pet refuses to leave Mummy and heads back towards me, and the ever silent Rottweiler. Another attack looms large.

For an eternity, my screams of,

Help!

rend the dusk. Held at arms’ length, the dog regards me with a quizzical expression… clearly it has no quarrel with me, only my inoffensive companion.

Exhausted by the gruelling ordeal, we’re at a stalemate.

Then… a voice.

Are you hurt? Sorry!

A knight in shining armour young fella — concern etching his face — appears behind his escapee canine.

No...

But, he bit my dog!

Sorry! Is he hurt?

Relieved, I gingerly hand his dog over. I stagger, stiffly to my feet.

I don’t know…

Terror departs. Relief floods my body, my mind… dog leash in hand, all thoughts of an invigorating walk are abandoned. Enough excitement for today!

With a shake of his coat, irrepressible Hudson turns towards home… trip-trapping more slowly than before… no high-stepping, but no slinking either.

Unbelievably, a mere five minutes and twenty-two seconds has elapsed since we had blithely left our haven of home. An anxious inspection reveals…

Nothing! Or very little! A tiny patch of fur scuffed off by his collar.

That cracked, weathered, leather collar… my unexpected answer to prayer! Punctured almost right through by a razor sharp tooth — like a gambeson tunic of old — Hudson’s collar saved his life!

*

Inspired by a recent dog attack.