Sarah was 8 months pregnant but determined not to give up our lunch walks because she wanted the baby to be as healthy as possible. We just walked more slowly and on one occasion she stopped to rest. She knew that diet was as important as exercise to ensuring a healthy pregnancy. To that end, she had faithfully followed a super-healthy diet the entire time of her pregnancy.
On our previous walk together, however, she made known her wishes to stop at a Foster Freeze ice cream parlor so she could have a chocolate covered frozen banana. I knew better than to say anything and even tried to avert my eyes. Sarah caught whiff of my silence and said: I’ve been eating healthy for 8 months, Roger, and this one treat won’t make any difference now–this is what I want!”
She was great company, quite articulate when we were delving deep into philosophy of education or life, offset by a great sense of humor. Naturally we sometimes got lost in conversation and on residential blocks that had no sidewalks for pedestrians, we had to be careful to keep glancing around for cars. That was our primary danger undoubtedly, although Sarah confided in me that she also had a fear of dogs.
As there were many dogs in the neighborhood, I made a mental note to keep an eye on all of them, especially any that were trotting about loose. I often walked in that area on my own. I could safely say I knew just about every house with a dog; I felt comfortable we were quite safe although I was also aware of the growing popularity of the pit bull breed in that particular neighborhood. They were not a breed to take lightly.
Sarah and I were headed east toward the hills, walking up a slight incline on the left side of a wide street with no sidewalks, talking merrily away, when the joy of the moment switched to holy terror in one terrifying flash. Across the street to our right were a row of small houses, neatly kept with small front yards, and most with wooden or cyclone fences about waist high to keep in their family pets.
One house had its door open and I believe we heard a woman cry out the dog’s name before we saw the fearful animal; she used that tone intended to command its return. She might as well have been speaking Greek for all that dog cared to respond to her English commands.
Then we saw it, a pit bull sprinting out the front door of the house at breakneck speed and making a beeline for us! Good god, it was exciting, frightening, and stupefying all in the same second. I stepped in front of Sarah to protect her and her unborn child. It was up to me to defend her at all costs; that much I understood of the gentleman’s code.
We both eyed the dog and for a brief second hoped the fence would contain it but in super slow motion we watched transfixed in horror as that dog started its tremendous leap. It was like watching an Olympic swimmer diving into the deep end of the pool—its two front legs were fully extended and parallel to one another, kept together perfectly.
Meanwhile the owner, a large somewhat disheveled woman, came running out of the house still screaming for the dog to return. The ineptitude of some dog owners never ceases to amaze me! especially when an owner screams “Come here!” to its pet that way as though the owner really believes the dog understands English.
She believed, bless her heart, she could still control the dog and make it respond to her, yet at the same time she seemed oblivious to the fact that the dog had already bolted and escaped from her vocal commands. By the time a dog has run away from its owner and jumped a fence, those earnest commands ring hollow and worthless!
Meanwhile, in my mind thoughts were swirling rapidly as I tried to remember the best way to defend both Sarah and myself—how does one fend off such a dog attack? News reports over the last several years chronicled the mauling deaths of several persons from pit bull attacks. They have tremendous clamping power in their jaws so one of those swirling thoughts was to prevent the dog from getting a grip on my arm or leg.
If it knocked me down and went for the throat it would become a life and death struggle so I was resolved to stay on my feet no matter what. If I had to leave my feet, it could mean only one thing—kill or be killed. I felt a deep visceral animal-like anger welling up inside of me. I prepared for the worst, a fight to defend my life and Sarah’s.
Sarah, with a preexisting fear of all dogs, was visibly shaken and looked to me for whatever protection I could offer her. I had no time to respond to her because I knew the moment of truth was at hand and I had to remain focused on the dog. There is a time to avoid eye contact with a potentially dangerous animal, but there also can come a moment when such avoidance is pointless.
Adversaries must fix their gaze upon each other right before the attack begins—there is no other way. One cannot run fast enough to get away, nor would curling up into a ball and hoping for mercy make any difference. One must fight to live and the sooner one is resolved upon this point the better it will be, come what may.
That dog’s leap over the fence appeared to happen in slow motion—I remember each detail of it so clearly! Then, as its front paws touched the sidewalk, it executed an abrupt pirouette to the left and went about sniffing the grass and bushes at the edge of the property. The owner was still screaming for her dog to come back but by then Sarah and I no longer cared! We both breathed a huge sigh of relief and visibly gulped down both fear and anxiety as we tried to force a smile to the surface of our faces once again.
The danger had exploded out of nowhere and the subsidence of that danger ended almost as fast–we had witnessed our fear raised to fever pitch in an instant. It could not subside quite as quickly but nevertheless a huge wave of relief flooded over us as we realized the dog was jumping the fence to explore and not to attack. By sheer chance, in passing that particular house on our walk, we happened to line ourselves up opposite the front door just as the pit bull escaped the confines of the house . . . so its subsequent run and jump all appeared to be on a straight line right toward us!
When I retired a few years later, Sarah graciously shared this story with gathered friends and colleagues. She commented on my gallantry when I stepped in front of her but couldn’t resist quipping she wasn’t sure how much it would help—“I was eight months pregnant and Dr. Rosenberg is so skinny, I was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to block very much of me from the dog’s view!” Ha ha Sarah and yes, you’re welcome.
We’ll never know what “the other timeline” might have brought but as for me I was prepared to battle the dog to the death if need be!
