by teskaa

Created on: April 12, 2007   Last Updated: May 16, 2007

Nothing is more frightening than having a large, 80lb or more dark animal with teeth running at you full speed, spittle falling from it's mouth. You know it's coming for you. You know you cannot out run it. And you know it will hurt.

I'd imagine, if I had thought about everything during my experience, I would have noticed more than just a big black monster lunging for my throat. But, in those times, adrenaline is pumping hot and hard, your heart is racing, and you have barely enough time to MOVE - let alone take in everything going on around you.

I was attacked when I was 18. Old enough to know about death and know it could happen ... and definitely old enough to have it scare the living hell out of me.

The day was unremarkable, and honestly, I couldn't even tell you what month it was, only that is was nearing the begging of summer or close to the end of it.

Earlier that evening I received a page from my friend to pick her up and take her over to another friends house to hang out. Nothing unusual. I'd been to her house many times before and so I went. However, when I arrived, she was not there.

Her mom was nice enough to let me use the phone to page her and ask her where she was. After I had hung up the phone, her little brother, no more than four years old came up to me and says, "Do you wanna play with doggie?"

"Sure," I said, thinking only of the little Jack Russell sitting on the love seat in the living room. The little boy disappeared into the back hallway and I paid him no mind as I called over the little pooch to give him a rub behind the ears. Same song and dance, different day.

Suddenly, out of nowhere I hear a low growl. I look up in time to see this large, black dog bounding for me, his mouth stretched wide. My immediate reaction (and one I'm very sure saved my life) was to put my arm up to shield myself. Just as I did, his teeth sank into my right wrist and it shook it violently, so much so I thought it would rip my arm off.

Somehow, I managed to get my wrist out of its mouth and turned to run. Unfortunately, I turned my back on it and ran into the kitchen, which had no where to go. I heard my shirt tear, but I didn't look behind me. To this day I am unsure what made me do it, but I pulled open the refrigerator door and cornered myself against the wall.

What seemed like half an hour later (though in reality is was less than a minute) her mother came out of the back room and pulled the dog away. As soon as it was far enough away I could get out ... I did.

Running outside, I didn't stop until I had locked myself securely in my car, windows rolled up, doors locked, my eyes never leaving the front door for fear that the animal would come back after me.

Nearly 15 minutes later, my friend showed up, with me still in shock, shaking and shivering in my car (though I remember it being hot outside, it had to be burning inside the car with the windows up). She coaxed me out, and most the rest of it was a blur from then until I got to the hospital.

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