Tough

I just got back from the gym. Did weights and then pushed myself HARD on the cross-trainer. Interval course. 30 minutes. How far did I go (in elliptical miles - not sure how that translates to actual road miles)? 4.05 miles. Yeah!

But what really makes me feel tough? Fighting off a dog.

Last night I was trying to coax the baby to sleep. Usually this is accomplished by strapping her to my back in the ergo and then cleaning the kitchen. She zonks out and I move on to wrestling the other two kiddos into bed. On this particular occassion, kitchen cleaning didn't do the trick so I headed out for a walk around the neighborhood.

That didn't work either because, about four blocks from home, we were attacked by a Boston Terrier. Yeah. Thank goodness it was just the terrier. Its friend was barking madly behind the fence and sounded much larger.

Before the attack, I saw it running toward me. I wasn't terribly concerned, at first. I've always thought of Bostons as being quite sweet and people-friendly. Then it jumped and bit me right above the knee. I was so surprised and the adrenaline hit so fast that it didn't hurt. My thinking just went into slow motion as "Crap! The dog is biting me!" began to process. I shook it off, but it kept jumping, biting at my leg. For a few more seconds I continued to react defensively, but the last jump, higher, was too close to the baby.

I side-kicked the dog in the chest. Hard. While saying, "NO!" in my loudest, deepest voice. The dog still jumped and paced and barked, but out of range. So I slowly turned and walked away.

Twice I heard the clicking of its nails on the sidewalk behind me, but I didn't turn and it finally disappeared.

Now I'm trying to process the event. I have never kicked a dog, before. I have always liked dogs, in general, and while I have been wary of some dogs in some situations, I have never been bitten by a dog. I have no bruises. I was not actually hurt - and I can't help but think that if the dog had actually wanted to hurt me, it certainly could have. So what was going on? Did I react appropriately?

If the second dog hadn't been going nuts behind the fence, I would have knocked on the owners door to let them know what happened. But I wasn't going to risk it, so I didn't.

It could have been much worse, but it wasn't. So part of me wants to just let it go and assume that there won't be a problem again.

But what if the baby had been in a stroller and not on my back? What if I'd had another child walking with me? What if the next person to walk by is scared of dogs and screams and runs, inciting the predator instinct?

What a pain in the butt (ha!).

Hmph.