PIT BULL ONE, PATTI ONE HALF

I was filling in for an ailing meter reader and probably not as cautious as I would have been had it been my regular job. Because I had read all the meters in five counties during my previous three year stint, there wasn't a back yard or pasture I had not been in. That possibly led to a false sense of security. Besides, the yard I was about to enter belonged to a friend of mine and I thought I knew what to expect. There would be a rather fat but friendly old female pit bull on the loose and a very handsome red nosed pit in a pen.

Not Josh nor my picture, but the spitting image of him. He was a handsome dog.

Confident of what I would find, I did not rattle the gate as was normal procedure to alert any dogs that I was coming. Instead, I popped open the gate, shutting it behind me and looked for Lucy the female who was very friendly. She came around the front of the house wagging her fat behind and I was getting ready to pet her when Josh came from behind the back of the house in full attack mode. I barely had time to think,"Josh isn't supposed to be loose." when his massive jaws clamped on my thigh. Fortunately he did not get a good grip for he got the fattest part of my thigh. Sometimes a little extra thigh is a good thing.

He swung his head from side to side trying to shake me off my feet when I drew my pepper spray and attempted to spray him right in the face. I knew if he got me on the ground, things were really going to get ugly. PSSSST was the sound the can made as air only came out. I was out of spray. The sound started him a bit and he released my leg. This was a blessing for Pits will lock their jaws if they get a good grip. They can pin a 300 pound wild hog so I didn't have much hope for me.

Most all of my previous dog bites came from dogs who bite and run. Only once before with the Shepherds, had I been actually attacked. I knew I was in for a battle for he came right back in, low and frothing. I swung the read book at his head and was rewarded with hand wounds. I then continued swinging the book, kicking at him and backing up. Each kick brought a new bite on my legs but they were punctures, he did not get a good grip.

Then a new problem arouse. Fat,sweet Lucy decided that this looked like grand fun and joined in. She was circling me from behind, not yet in full attack but thinking seriously about it. The only good thing in all of this is that I felt no pain as it was happening. Adrenalin is a wonderful thing. I finally swung, kicked and backed my way to the gate and squeezed out.

Then what ever had been holding me upright quit and I sank into the grass with Josh chewing and slobbering on the fence. I was weak and shaking violently. My jeans were torn and blood was running down my arms but I really didn't know just what the damages were.

When I could stand again, I walked to the house directly next door and knocked. This was pre-cell phone days and I needed to report the attack to my boss. A gentleman came to the door and let me use his phone. I wondered where he had been hiding when the attack had taken place for it certainly was a noisy battle. He was not at all like my phone guys but I could hardly blame him. I had years before discovered how one can be frozen in fear watching an attack.

I was relived of duty by my boss and sent to the ER to see if I needed stitches and to get antibiotics. That was when I learned I had been bitten in 17 separate places. My legs were a mess but since they were all puncture wounds, no stitches were needed. I did look like I was wearing purple leggings for quite a while as the bruising was extensive.

Alan, my friend and owner of Josh, was just sick about what had happened. That morning, after he had let Josh out of the pen for a run, he thought,"I think I will let ole Josh stay out today while I am at work." and he left him loose inside the fenced yard. He never even thought about the meter reader being due that day.

Alan asked me if I wanted Josh destroyed and I said no, as long as he was properly confined. Alan moved Josh to a nearby hunt camp to be kenneled except when used for hunting. I guess the poor dog got life with out parole. I know it sounds odd, but I felt sorry for him.

Alan ran an automotive electric repair shop and for the for the next 10 years that I lived in that area, I could never pay him for any work he did on my cars. Today, you can't even see one scar from the attack as puncture wounds heal with barely a trace. I do feel fortunate and no, I don't think ALL pit bulls are bad. Had I been a burglar or an attacker threatening his family, Josh would have gotten a medal. To him, that is what I was.

That day actually was my fault also as I did not do my job properly. I did not rattle the gate and I did not make sure I had a full can of pepper spray. Two mistakes I never made again.