A lesson in horror...

My beloved puppy dog and I were out talking a walk Tuesday evening.  Walking aids in ensuring his nightly business is done out of doors.  We had just turned onto the side street to my own when I looked up and saw this large dark dog heading toward us at a dead run.  I knew what was going to happen.  Quickly, I scooped up Amos, and frantically looked about, but there was nowhere for us to go.

I am terrified.  Still.  48 hours later.

The dog was large and immediately leapt up on me and grabbed Amos.  I hung on with all my might, screaming at the top of my voice for help.  I screamed.  Amos screamed.  The dog bit and scratched and bruised us both. I screamed and screamed and screamed for help.

I hate MS.  Never more than I did that night.

The dog grabbed me by the upper arm and dragged me to the ground.  I fell hard, striking my head against the curb.  After scrambling back to my feet, I danced stumbled around trying to keep Amos wrapped in my arms.  At one point, the dog grabbed a hold of Amos' leg and pulled us both down again.  I regained my feet several times, but was back on the ground immediately.  He bit my wrist, pulling me to the ground.  At some point into the battle, two men came and started kicking the dog.  They couldn't make him stop and urged me to abandon Amos to the dog and save myself.  I could not.  I simply could not lose my dog.

The last time I got back to my feet, I knew that the next time the dog pulled me down I would not be able to stand once more.  I also knew that I would shortly no longer be able to hold onto Amos any longer.  The pit bull was about to win, because even though I wanted to still fight the MS made doing so impossible.  I was too weak.  Amos was no longer screaming, and I feared I was holding onto a dead dog.   I began waiting for the inevitable.

I do not know how it ended.  I just know that it finally did.  Amos and I on the ground, covered in blood, circled by people.  I couldn't stand anymore.  I couldn't even hold Amos.  He crawled across my lap and wouldn't even let me touch him.  He growled and snapped at everyone. 

Part of the crowd were the owners.  The woman kept telling everyone it was my fault, that I didn't know what play was and the dog was just trying to play with Amos.  The man got down and put his face just an inch or two from mine and was threatening me, telling me that I needed to say that nothing happened.  I started screaming again, begging someone to make him get away from me.  Someone finally pulled him away.

I begged anyone to get my neighbor.  She came.  I begged her to get Amos home, so worried he would bite someone and end up being taken away.  Once she left with him, I let go and fainted.


Male officers pulling at my clothing and photographing my injuries.
Male EMTs who kept telling me not to play games after I fainted and threatened to "shove a tube up your nose if you don't cooperate and stay awake."
Male nurse.
Male doctor.


I found that so difficult.  Words cannot describe my terror.  I keep trying to explain how vicious this attack was, but it seems to me that as I have done, there has been sympathy and such, but no real clear understanding.

Last night, in being interviewed and photographed again by the Animal Control officer, I was given the words:  pit bull.

Amos and I were attacked by a pit bull.

The attack was around 4-5 minutes.  Stop.  Stare at a clock for 5 minutes. As you do, imagine a pit bull trying to kill a dog in your arms and attacking you to get to the dog.  Then imagine afterward having to face a hostile, threatening member of the gender who has wounded you deeply as you cower in terror, covered with your blood and the blood of your beloved puppy.


By the mercy of God, someone reached my new pastor and he came to the hospital to pray with me.  By the mercy of God, a female technician was found who could at least serve as a chaperone.  By the mercy of God, Amos was still alive when I got home.  By the mercy of God, my old boss was awake to talk when I called her at 4:00 AM because she is a early morning bird.


My beloved puppy dog has puncture wounds, gouges, an injury to his eye, and was running a fever yesterday, which I hope is gone now.  He has black bruises all over his body.  He trembles even in his sleep.  I haven't been able to hold him or snuggle with him.  He cannot really walk about, so I have to carry him outside to do his business.  Whenever I pick him up, he squeals in pain.  I cannot figure out a way to carry him that does not hurt him.

The owners took the dog away as the police were close and have been keeping him away.  As of a few weeks ago, he still was an un-vaccinated dog ordered to compliance (there have been several calls about the dog already).  Amos is to be quarantined for 10 days until it is clear he does not have rabies.

I have deep scrapes, bites, and bruises all over my body.  I am in great pain and have trouble moving.  I have not yet slept because I cannot calm down; medication has not helped.  I am still traumatized.  I am still terrified.

Amos is alive.
I am alive.


Somewhere in all of this is a moment in time that will pass and be no more.  Then, I shall want my damn t-shirt.  A pair of them actually.  One in a tiny size.  Emblazoned across the front:  I survived a pit bull attack and all I got was this dumb t-shirt.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!