Something Unexpected Happened Today

I was on the phone with a dear friend of mine. She is the type of friend who encourages cups of coffee and very long conversations. I look forward to our time on the phone. It's a time for us to reflect, give each other advice about marriage, kids and life , and look forward to the near and distant future. We can talk about anything and frequently do. As I was talking, I was pacing in my kitchen. Pacing is something I love to do and have done for nearly my entire life. Walk and talk, talk and walk, round I go covering every square inch of my kitchen. The dogs were barking, well, two of them were, at the fence, at the squirrels and at each other. The dachshund remained in the living room only steps from me serving out his sentence due to his unfortunate back injury in his dog bed. He is in week 6 of his 8 week interment period. The barking is something I can ignore. I am a mother of four. Selective hearing is an acquired art for for survival in a busy household full of children. I merely adapted it to my dogs. The barking didn't seem any different to me than any other time.

My oldest dog Asti, is a 13 1/2 year old German shepherd and whippet mix. She has helped me raise my kids and kept us safely guarded when I was a single mom living alone. She is deeply embedded in my heart. She reminded me of the Nanny character in Peter Pan. She would go into the back yard with my children and run circles around them herding them in, keeping the watchful eye to protect them from harm and strangers. She refused to allow any man in my house who wasn't Michael. He was her boy and she would not yield. Michael and I broke up for 8 months and while I dated, no one was allowed near the house. She has been the singular constant in the last couple of decades of my life.
Asti is aging now, her hearing is dim and her eyesight is even dimmer. She runs much like she always has, only she sleeps much more.

Today as I was on the phone she and the youngest, BoBo were running and barking until I heard a strange sort of bark come from my constant companion. I looked outside to see a strange man in my back yard looking menacingly at my old dog. He was wearing a gas company shirt and I yelled "Hey!" at him right as he picked up a river rock the size of my fist. Asti was headed for the kitchen door and BoBo was skulking far away in a corner. Both dogs began the trot back to me when this man threw the rock at my Asti hitting her squarely in her side. Screaming at this horrific sight, I ran into the yard and he began walking toward the gate where he had let himself into my fenced in yard. The rock hit Asti so hard that it bounced off her and landed in the pool sinking to the bottom.

I was shaking as I told him all he had to do was knock on our front door if the dogs were out. They didn't attack him. He had walked into our property for 40 yards before he even threw the rock, so he knew they didn't bite. I tried talking to him, but he never broke his stride. He refused to look at me. I felt...helpless and victimized. I ran in and told my friend what happened briefly and hung up the phone. I grabbed my cell while checking Asti to see if she was hurt. The attack was vicious and unnecessary. I called Mike and told him what had happened. He told me to call the company and complain, which I did and told them that man was to never come in my yard again. I wanted a new meter reader. I got off that phone call and sat with my dogs. My head was pounding and I couldn't wrap my brain around why someone would be cruel to an old dog.

This evening I was talking to Mike about the incident and I felt my eyes well up with tears. Asti is fine and shows only a slight limp. She was wagging her tail and taking all the petting she could get. I on the other hand was starting to go through something. I told Mike that I felt unsafe for the first time since we moved here. I had always felt so comfortable in my home and yard and with the fence I felt the animals were safe and out of harms way. But today I didn't feel safe. Every time the dogs barked I jumped. One of my precious crew had been violently attacked in our own back yard. This was no small matter for me. This brought up my own trust issues and something sinister from my own past.

I was 17 years old the first time I was the victim in a domestic violence incident with a boyfriend. I can recall the exact instant he hit me for the first time. I remember how he blamed me saying that if I only would do what he said and shut up, it wouldn't have happened. Sadly, being so young, I believed him. I believed a few others after that as well. I believed it was my fault I got hit. I believed them when they said they were sorry, only to have them beat me and blame me again.

Unable to stop the attack on my dog I felt something I haven't felt for a very long time. I felt scared and vulnerable to what was beyond my control. I felt like the young girl who believed that if she got hit she deserved it. I felt like the terrified young woman in college, who raped by a friend, stayed quiet for fear of retribution and more shame. I felt scared and paranoid and exposed, much like my old wounds had become. I cried. I cried for not being able to protect the dog who has protected me all of her life. I cried for the fear I felt and how a single moment had taken over my day. I cried for the girl who has grown up so very much and whose wounds are covered over in the tough outer shell of scar tissue, yet in that instant I felt my wounds ripped open for all to see.

It was a stupid man, who for whatever crazy reason in his head made a cruel, violent, stupid mistake. I couldn't stop him. The dog is fine. I carefully tended to my old dog and the heart she resides in. After my cry and some distance and perspective, I knew that whatever unexpected things got tossed or hurled at me, I would be fine too.