Dogs of Doom

They say you get your first memories around the age of two. I was unfortunate enough to have a dog attacking me as one of my first memories. When I pull it out of my memory bank I see a four-foot long black dog, which was huge from a little two-year old’s point of view. I can remember the dog jumping on me taking me down to the ground. It got on top of me and I started screaming and crying. Then my brother came running over kicking and shouting at the dog. Though I don’t remember the situation very well, I believe this dog could have killed me. That day sparked my prolonged fear of dogs. We moved to a lakeside neighborhood which, to my horrible luck, happened to be Dog City. For almost two years I was afraid to go outside to play. That was until one day I decided to make a stand. 1

I was around the age of five and still deathly afraid of dogs. When none were in sight I would attempt to play outside. Our neighbors rarely put their dogs on leashes. They just let them roam wherever they pleased. Whenever I saw one I would run away either back in the house or up a tree. Dogs literally chased up trees like I was raccoon and they were hounds hunting me. Sometimes my mom would need some cooking ingredients from one of our neighbors. She would have one of us run over there; get whatever she needed and run back home. Every time I was asked to do it I utterly refused. Between our house and the neighbor’s house was certain death. There were times where I was forced to run across the yard to the neighbors, but I always made sure the coast was clear. 2

Across the street lived a small three-foot long mutt. She was a pathetic wretched little thing. Even though she was nothing like the hellhound that attacked me at age two, she was still mean as can be. I was outside playing and she started chasing me as if I was covered in dog food. I screamed in terror and began running around the house with her closely behind. Indoors was my safe haven but I couldn’t hide inside forever. My parents did not tolerate my fear of dogs any longer. I admit, I was a crybaby back then and had no desire to face my fears. My mom kept on saying, “You need to get mean! They’re dogs. They’ll run away if you yell and chase them.” I thought the idea was crazy, knowing that I was undoubtedly outnumbered by dogs. They could rip me to shreds if they wanted to. Something inside me told me to stand up, and fight back. I don’t know where it came from, I must have thought about what my mom said. 3

I peaked outside my front door and no dogs were in sight. Then, in front of me in the grass, I saw a stick with all its bark pealed off. It was smooth and had round shape at the end like a club, or a mace. It laid there in front of me as if a hand from the Heavens put this stick there and said, “Here, use this stick to beat dogs with.” When I picked that stick up my mind switched to a whole different mode of thinking. I was a defender and my house was my castle. My home was under siege by a pack of werewolves. Now it was up to me to send these flee-biting bastards back to Hell where they belonged. 4

After I acquired my divine weapon, I saw three dogs in front of me waiting for me to make a move. I remember asking myself, “What am I doing? I’m definitely going to die.” So I channeled my fear in to anger and let out a war cry. It caught them off guard and they took off running. The dogs were gone and everything was good, but not good enough for me. I ran after them and started swinging my stick aggressively trying to hit anything in my reach. I whacked a few as hard as I could and they whimpered away. While in the heat of battle that little mutt from across the street caught my eye. She was a stubborn one. Even though she was one of the smaller dogs she was quick. With great speed she lunged at me. I let out another war cry and she started running in the opposite direction. My mind went berserk and I quickly pursued her. The tables have completely turned. Now it was my turn to chase her around the house.5

My divine stick was held high as I chased after that mutt like a mad man. I can recall screaming, “Come on! Get back here! I wanna play! Don’t you wanna play?” It was like Achilles chasing Hector around the walls of Troy. Nothing could stop me or my lust for revenge. Finally, she ran back to her own turf and I continued my wrath on any K-9 who dared to enter my yard. I was Lance Noble, Dog Hunter and wielder of the Divine Stick. 6

Later that day, the dogs and I came to a truce. I remember one of them licked my face in a friendly and playful way. That moment changed my attitude towards dogs. We finally understood each other….well I understood them anyway. I even embraced the dogs as if they were my own. After making new friends I can safely say that dogs are a man’s best friend. I can say this about every dog except for the ones that live in my neighborhood today. They are loud, annoying, dig out our trash, and attack our cats but I won’t get in to that. The principal is that I am no longer afraid.7