reply to post by Mapkar
My first brush with near death, was at the ripe old age of 8. My father had gotten a german shepard about 2 years prior to the incident, he was a
male, about 6 months old, trained in over 20 commands, he was the besy dog I have ever had the pleasure of comming into contact with.
My father decided he wanted to breed him and sell the puppies, as he had all his AKC paper work, and had come from a very good blood line. so me
father got a female from a breeder and put them in the back yard together.
She got pregnant, and the guy ended up owing my dad a few hundred dollars for some work he had done, and just gave him the female and all rights to
all the puppies.
So she has 6 good pups, and was about a week away from weening them, when she began to act strangly, first a puppy turned up missing, but we didn't
think much at the time as we lived out in the country, 40 miles from any city, in central rural indiana (small town called poland), so we assumed it
wandered away from the moms dog house and coons or coyotes got it, these things happen in the country.
Well a day later another turned up missing, at a couple hundred bucks each back in 86 was a lot of money, so my parents decided to keep them and the
mother inside to keep them safe. The next morning it happened.
I was in the living room playing with her and the puppies, when she just freaked out and attacked me, she just growled once, and lunged at my face!
(My dad had taught me since I was young, that if a big dog ever attacked me, not to try to run as it was way faster and would take me from behind very
quickly, instead, to stand my ground and wait for it to open its mouth, and stick my forearm all the way in the back of its mouth where it has no
teeth, then grab the back of its head and force it to the ground on its back with me on its chest.)
So when it lunged! Time froze like it does in situations like this, and all I remeber thinking for the next few minutes was my fathers words, as I did
as he told me and stood my ground, asn force my little forearm as far into the back of the dogs mouth as I could, and grabbed the back of its head,
and forced ikt to the ground on its back, with me on its chest!
As I lay close to the dogs chest as instructed so it couldn't scrath me, I remeber hearing my fathers words as I leaned with my entire body weight(
not much at 8 but sufficient for this task) on my other forearm on the dogs neck. I just lay there for what seems forever, crying at the pain inmy
right forearm( the one in its mouth), the sheer horror of the situation I was in, and terrified beyond any sense. Yelling for my mom, and scream,
praying to God for help. Utterly helpless to stop my horror and terror.
When my mother, comes out of nowhere and grabbed both the dogs jaws and pried them open, and yelling for me to pull my arm away and run.
So I did, I ran, as hard as I was capable. I made it about 6 feet, when I felt somthing huge, and powerful hit me from behind, and a terrible pain on
both sides of my head.
The next thing I know I was on the ground face first, and being shaken by this 80LBS shepards by my head.
My mother came up so fast I don't even know how she moved so fast, she broke the broom over the dogs back, and kikced it a good 2 feet in the
The second I was free, I ran for my life into my parents room and slammed the door. Safe finally from the attack, and shaken from the experience that
had just happened.
My mom had opened the back door and the dog just ran outside, so she closed and rushed to attend to my wounds. It was nothing major actually, I needed
4 butterfly stitched on my head, and had some bruising and sorenedd in the forearm, along with a few scratches and carpet burn, ( all pretty much
standard care for a country kid at the time, just all at once instead of spread out over months). I was ok after a couple of weeks with only small
scars on both sides of my head from her attempt to crush my skull.
My father rushed home from work in Indianapolis, about an hour and ahlaf away. He got home and took the dog to his work van, came inside and said to
me "son do you want to kill the dog? If you do I understand and don't blame you, if you don't just say no and you will never see or hear about it
again". I had killed many animals by this time, as I had been coon hunting, rabbit and squirrel hunting, and even shot a couple of coyotes already.
But I couldn't do it, so I said no.
My father walked in his bedroom to the gun safe, and grabbed his 357 pistol out and walked out the door. He came home about 2 hours later, and never
heard of the dog again all these years, except if I bring it up.
I have to stop. I don't know if the tears in my eyes are from the memory, or maybe a couple to many drinks of this whiskey, but I can't go any
further, also I am out room.
Star and flag OP.