I walked in to work this morning. My left gluteous maximus is sore. I must have pulled something. It must have happened when I kicked that dog. It’s sore now and hurts when I bend over. My right knee has some abrasions too. Must have scraped it when I fell over, after repeatedly kicking at that dog and pulling the lead to get LBJ away from that dog.
Minutes earlier LBJ had been happily walking and sniffing around on Turner Parklands, near where the big storm water drain runs across under the bridge on Masson Street. He didnt have his lead on but I was not further than 5 meters from him. When I saw that dog slowly running towards him, I quickly put the lead on and tried to get him and myself away. Behind that brown and black striped dog an old man was running, calling out “No Totti, no”. A pit bull terrier, I thought. Too tall to be a Staffordshire terrier.
I dont remember much after that. Other than hearing LBJ cry out loud and me yelling at the dog while kicking him. That old man eventually caught up and tried to pull that dog away. Up close, those stripes are like a tiger’s. He had bits of white on the lower half of his body. When he was at last pulled away by that old man and lead safely in place, I ran my hand through Scruff to see if he has been hurt. Miraculously he appeared to be ok. The only thing on my mind was to ensure that dog is safely restrained – the old man owner appear to be working hard restraining him and I wasn’t completely confident it wouldn’t break free. So I kept a distance as I yelled out to the old man that that dog should be on lead at all times.
Other than some saliva and a broken harness, Scruff appears to be unscathed. As I walked away a young man came up and said he saw what happened and said the old man and I should exchange details. I was still apprehensive about the old man’s ability to retrain that dog so I just asked for his mobile number. He gave me that number and I rang straight away – his phone rang out so I said I will be in contact if necessary. That young man walked with me a little bit and said he was a lawyer with Ashurst and his name was Hayden. I was very grateful for his work.
Back at the apartment I checked Scruff over several times, brushed him, and belly rubbed him to check his underside. I couldn’t believe he appeared to be unscathed. I had spoken to Tress earlier who said she was just leaving the office. As I googled what else I could or should do after an attack like that, I came across an ACT local government page which said I should report the incident. I rang the 13 xxxx number and surprisingly, someone picked up. It was almost 8 by then. She took my call and asked a series of questions. A park ranger than rang again after about 5-10 minutes to say he would write up a report.
LBJ might have been surprised by the affection I showed him all night – held him close, scratched him constantly and babying him. He had his dinner, looked relaxed, and appeared to be in a much better state than I was.
This morning as I walked him, he moseyed up to a big black Labrador and said hello. He is a sweet thing, LBJ. Obviously the attack last night hadn’t changed that part of him. As I tried to go through my routine after that walk, it was obvious of the two of us, I had come out the worse. I’m glad I’m the one with the aches and pains – that little black jedi is such a hero.