Sometimes people are killed by a single dog, and even completely domesticated pet dogs kill people in the owner’s home, in some kind of dog frenzy, and anyone with a brain fears dog packs.
I used to work the black neighborhoods in Dallas, and would still be doing door to door sales after dark, there I learned about the danger of city dog packs, not fully wild, but dangerous and not under anyone’s control, even though some, most, or all, had some form of ownership.
I talked to some of the people about it and they were very clear that it was a real local danger after dark, especially for the children.
Joggers go armed, because of dogs, not pet cats, or even feral cats.
Holy smokes, that sounds dangerous. Doing any kind of door-to-door can be hazardous.
I lived in Yokosuka, Japan when I was around 11, and took my brother’s spider bike out for a ride on some of the less traveled parts of that big Navy base there.
I rode down a deserted road with large hills on both sides covered with green vegetation. Stretching for hundreds of yards on either side of that two lane road were acres of chain link fence. In the fenced off areas there was a vast array of military equipment and machinery in various states of repair. There were fields of what must have been barrels for large naval guns. There were odd looking gray objects of all shape and condition that had been placed there and seemingly forgotten, rust spotting the paint, black hacked off cables protruding and laying on the ground. Launches and landing craft in long lines. Naval shells, 5”, 6”, 8” and even 16” shells.
As I pedaled along, I passed an area that was open all the way to the hills. I looked up, and saw a huge pack of dogs come running out of a cave, barking like mad, coming right at me from probably 100 yards away.
Those hills were honeycombed with tunnels. They had been meticulously boarded up by Seabees (I think) and walled off by large, stout, wooden structures with padlocked doors for access. They were impenetrable. I know this, because we tried. We were always trying to get into those caves. My brother and I almost got lost in one when we went inside with my dad’s spotlight that had an external battery you could carry on your shoulder, and you plugged the cigarette lighter connecter into it. We got a good way into that cave, and my brother dropped the light. Or I did...I don’t remember. But when that light hit the ground and went out, it was black. Completely, totally and absolutely black.
I remember, at that point, with a sharp pang of panic, that we did not have any backup light or matches. Nothing. My heart began to race as the panic rose up in me while we fumbled unsuccessfully in the pitch black to get the light going. I think we were both immediately convinced that the light had broken when it hit the ground, and we knew we were screwed. They would never, ever have found us. There were dozens and dozens of those tunnels, and we were hundreds of feet in.
My brother realized that when the light had fallen to the ground, the cigarette lighter connecter had jerked loose. He plugged it in, we got out, and never went back in any tunnels again.
Anyway, this tunnel on this more remote part of the base where I was riding my bike was either not sealed up or was open and had been inhabited by wild dogs. There were a good number of wild dogs, because military personnel had just left pets behind when they rotated out, and many of the animals became feral. At the time, I did not know this, and when this pack of dogs came running out of that cave towards me, I began pedaling with all my might to pick up speed.
However, the bike had a flaw that made it irritating in the best of time, and at this particular time, was particularly inopportune: when you really, REALLY pushed on the pedals to get going, sometimes the chain couldn’t stay on the sprocket, and it would come off, requiring you to stop whatever you were doing on the bike and put the chain back on. You know the drill. Get it completely on the small sprocket, part-way on the bigger sprocket, then you slowly turn the pedal and get it back on.
Well, when I put the pedal to the metal, you guessed it: the chain came off.
And then the dogs were immediately right on me.
As the first few dogs caught up, they began snapping at my legs, which I pulled up on the handlebars. This all took place in the space of about three seconds from the chain coming off.
I rapidly began to lose speed, and it was crystal clear to me that the bike was going to slow to a point, begin to wobble from side to side, and then fall over. And there was nothing I could do about it.
In a flash of inspiration, I realized my only option was the one I had to go for. I steered towards the nearest chain link fence and leaped off off the bike onto it. I clambered to the top and straddled the barbed wire across the top. It was really awkward, and I slid my bottom legs under the bottom strand and rested my torso on the top strand. (This wasn’t razor wire, it was the old style barbed wire)
The dogs milled wildly ten feet below me, standing on their hind legs as their front legs extended up the fence towards me. Later, my memory thinks there must have been fifty of those dogs, but I suspect it was a dozen or two at the most. I sat up on that fence for what seemed like an hour after the dogs left, I was too scared to come down.
When I did come down, I was terrified to take my eyes off the hill and put them on the bicycle chain to get it back on. I felt like if I even took my eyes away for a split second that when I looked up again, they would be rushing towards me again. When I did get the chain back on, I hightailed it out of there, sweating with panic the entire time.
I have to say that was probably the most frightened I have ever been in my life. I have no idea what those dogs would have done. But I know enough about dogs to know what can happen if they develop a pack mentality. To this day, the thought of being attacked by dogs or any of their wild biological cousins terrifies me.
We are lucky. We are at the top of the food chain, for the most part. But I can say with certainty, I understand the terror that primitive men certainly must have felt living in a landscape inhabited by large predators who viewed early humans as just another legitimate part of their food supply. They certainly must have been constantly tuned into the location of any nearby trees as well as their suitability for climbing.
Interestingly, when we moved to the Philippines, The base was probably much larger in Subic Bay, but I saw no feral dogs or cats at all.
It was only until just recently when I dwelled on the subject that I realized why: there aren’t any kind of fauna in Japan to speak of to feed off of dogs or cats.
The Philippine jungle was filled with things that would make short work of domestic pets.