Low Down and Dirty with Dogs: Practical Techniques for Curbing Dangerous Dogs

Doing Freedom! ^ | Remingtonius

[fightinJAG]

I was in Kuwait during Gulf War 1991 and our camp had a big problem with packs of wild dogs. The desert surrounding our camp, however, was littered with unexploded ordinance and mines.

To deal with the dogs, we usually just forced them to run across certain sandfields.

Yep, exploding dogs.

Helped clean up the mines, too.

[fightinJAG]

Doberman = Rottweiler

[tjparker]

This is a story written by a 13 year old who was attacked by a Doberman when she was 3.
Never Trust An Ugly Dog

Dogs: cute, big, small, ugly, tiny, huge, it doesn’t matter they’re all frightening to me. It was a nice sunny Saturday afternoon in August of 1993 when we went to my grandpa’s house for a cookout, a family get together, and that’s when it happened, the one thing that changed my life forever.
We had all finished eating and the guys were in the living room watching television and the girls were in the kitchen playing cards; you know the normal family get together. I was only 3 years old and my brother was 7. As usual, at about this time, my brother and I were getting bored; so, we asked if we could go outside and play. As always my mom quickly says, “No!” My grandpa walked in wearing his cowboy hat, wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and his western shirt as he did every day and in his rough stern voice he said, “Let them kids go outside.” As you can imagine the next 30 minutes were spent arguing. You see my grandpa had this dog, a big dog, he was gray and ugly, his name was Spook. He was a Doberman Pincher and my mom didn’t like him. She would always say, “Those dogs brain are too small for their head and that makes them crazy.” My grandpa, on the other hand, always said that Spook was a family dog and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, my grandpa won this time and we got to go outside and play. After about 30 seconds my mom came outside, just to make sure everything was alright, immediately followed by my grandpa.
Everything was going just fine; my brother and I were playing and the grown-ups were sitting in the front yard talking. After awhile Spook came walking up. My brother was petting him on the head so I decided to be brave and softly started petting him on the back. I quickly looked over at my mom who had already stood up and was gritting her teeth as my grandpa was scolding her. I heard him saying, “See there everything is just fine, that dog wouldn’t hurt them kids. Heck, all these kids around here ride that dog like he’s a horse!” Just about that time and in a split second; it happened! The dog suddenly turned his head and after pushing my brother to the ground he took me down by the face. My mom started screaming hysterically and running over to me. It took my grandpa and 2 other men to get the dog off of me. My mom picked me up and the dog started running for her. My mom and I were covered in blood and as my grandpa got control of the dog someone else put me and my mom in the car and rushed us to the emergency room. When my mom walked through the emergency room doors everyone stood up and started backing away. I guess that was because my mom had on a light yellow and orange shirt with white shorts, which were completely covered with blood; she was carrying me in her arms. But I guess the scary part for them was that you could see my skull from the openings where the dog had mauled my face and head. My mom never put me down; she held me the whole time I was in the hospital, even when the surgeons were sewing me up. I ended up with about 150 stitches in my head and face, puncture wounds down the left side of my face, and my mouth was swollen shut. My mother had to feed me liquids with a 10 cc syringe for almost 2 weeks. Even then I had a hard time chewing and eating; I guess that’s where my “gum addiction” came in. It hurt to eat so I would suck on sugarless gum to somewhat satisfy my appetite.
At the moment the attack occurred I immediately went into shock. When I woke up the plastic surgeons were sewing me up. I was laying in my mother’s arms and I remember that I started to cry because I was scared; but I knew my mom was holding me so was okay. When my mom took me for my follow-up appointment with the surgeon I went crazy and started kicking, and hitting, and screaming. The surgeon told my mom that I thought he was the one that hurt me because I went into shock when the attack occurred and did not remember it. Since he was the first thing I saw when I woke up referred all of my pain and suffering to the men in white, the doctors! Needless to say, this made my mom’s life very difficult. The surgeon was unable to take out my stitches and told my mom she would have to do it; or they would have to put me to sleep again in order to get them out. It took my mom all night to get them out; all 150 of them! The
doctor’s said the dog had bitten through my Trigeminal nerve and that I may never regain function in my face. They wanted me to go to Houston for nerve grafting but my mom said no because the odds weren’t good enough. After about 6 months the doctor said that I wouldn’t get any better. For the next year and a half my mother my put me through a focused exercise program. Every day, 3-4 times a day and 7 days a week she made me exercise and then she would rub my face with lotions. The exercises that we used were used on stroke patients trying to regain functions and speech.
Since that day “dogs” have been a “ we don’t go there” situation according to my mom. She is terrified of dogs; big dogs, little dogs, cute dogs - it doesn’t matter. That’s probably because she seen it happen and the fact that my recovery took 2 long hard years.
My mom was worried, after 6 months had passed and there was no improvement, that I may need further surgeries in the future. I had a facial droop and my face never showed expression or movement. Therefore, she took my grandpa to court to ensure further medical expenses would be covered by his homeowners insurance. Unfortunately, Texas has this first bite law, what that means is that the first bite is free. Fearing the worst my mom got very mad and upset. She started talking to every parent that had a child who played with dogs. She found out that Spook had bitten many other people just not to the extent of my injuries. Therefore the insurance company settled out of court; providing me with a trust fund that I will receive when I am 25, which will cover any future surgeries that I may need to have.
For 13 months there was never any change. I had a facial droop and my mouth didn’t even move. My mother never gave up; She always said “You never know” and “Cant never could.” You might have noticed that my mom is a nurse; and She was determined that I would get better. I even remember my moms patients coming over to our house to get care instead of her going over there because she had to take care of me. Then one day while doing our exercises my mom started screaming, “ It moved, it moved, her mouth is moving,” it scared me to death. From that point on I slowly began to regain function in my face. To this day I can’t go outside without sunscreen on and when I get sick the area around my scars turn red.
On the lighter side, and unfortunate for my mother, it is pretty funny to see her running down the street and screaming while being chased by a cute little Chihuahua! The moral of this story, as Dorothy Hinshaw quotes “Even the tiniest poodle or Chihuahua is still a wolf at heart.”