The Dope in the Middle

Thursday morning. A mild day. 

The killing floor. A kitchen. A simple, sort of shabby kitchen. The killer - a young, male, 150 pound Tibetan Mastiff. The victim - an older, female, 150 pound, relatively quiet and gentle Tibetan Mastiff.

The "Dope in the Middle." That would be me. "The Caretaker." I was to walk the young male, a powerful, sort of scary being. I have always been a little leery of this one. He is so big, so strong, I realized early on, when I first met him, I couldn't really handle him. I was always so careful to keep him away from other dogs, other people.

The female, his "companion," happened to be in the kitchen as I led the male out the door. And then something "snapped." The male pounced on the female. The male went after the female hard. There were horrible screams of malevolence and terror. From me and the dogs. Two large thrashing dogs sprawled out on the kitchen floor. There were sounds of violence and terror. Fur flying. One dog had it's jaws and large teeth sunk deeply into the neck of the other. It looked like he was trying to snap her neck.

There was blood, some of it spattered on my jeans. I panicked. I was helpless. I tried to pull one dog off the other. And even while I was doing it, I was thinking, "This is stupid. I could get mauled." It seemed like a killing; that one dog would not relent until the other was dead. Maybe I was seeing clearly, maybe I wasn't. My body was full of adrenaline, I was shaking, I was full of fear, and a deep dread, and total powerlessness.

I was convinced I was witnessing a killing. I actually tried to get between these two dogs. Between the bared teeth, the massive, thrashing bodies. After about 5 minutes of this mayhem, I somehow I pulled the aggressor off the other one, and pushed the female into a small adjoining bedroom. I hustled the male back into his crate. The female was breathing heavy, looking at me with intensely sad eyes. At least that was my read.

She seemed ok. Maybe her thick fur saved her from damage. I called the owner, left a shaky voice message. And then left. I must admit I was shaken down to the core of my being. Deeply shaken. I had a feeling of deep doom all day. It was a disturbing, existential kind of dread. It was simply a dog fight. No one died, a bit of blood was spilled. I had no nicks or bruises. But I had been totally helpless, and scared, and powerless in the face of what looked to be a vicious, unbridled attack.

Fear. Raw fear, my body was awash in it, and there was nothing to do but shake in it's grip...