Things Seen While Running: Dogs That Want a Piece of Me

One of my favorite places to run is a neighborhood a couple miles south of my house. But to get there I have to pass the House of the Vicious Dogs. If I leave early enough, they won't bother me; they tend to sleep late. But most of the time, they are there in the yard. The yard has a gate, but I have never seen it closed. They come after me, barking and baring their razor-sharp teeth. So far I have kept them at bay with my commanding, authoritative voice. But one of these days, they may attack, so I decided I'd better document their efforts.

Here they come, dashing toward me out of the gate.

They jump at me, but fear my wrath should they dare to come closer.

They left me alone, again driven away by my intimidating glare and forceful commands. Also, for the first time I heard someone at the house yelling for the dogs to stay in the yard. I'm thinking I'm going to drop a letter in the mail to politely ask them to keep their dogs in the yard. Otherwise, I might have to show them some dog-fu!

These guys want a piece of me too. Lucky for them, they are secure behind the fence.

These little guys are cute, but they think they're vicious.

Fratricide is as old as Cain and Able, as Romulus and Remus. Today, I had the sad opportunity to witness a canine fratricide. In this yard live 3 dogs, one large and 2 small. When I came upon the yard, one little dog came to the fence to bark at me. I wondered where the other two were. I saw in the flower bed that the big one seemed to be wrestling with the other little one. After a moment, I realized that it was no friendly, two-sided sparring, but a one-sided, brutal attack.

In this picture you can see the poor little white dog's legs, trying to get the big dog off of him. I shouted at the big dog, but he ignored me.

Finally, the big dog walked away. I went down the driveway at the side of the yard for a closer look. The little dog was still breathing, but based on what I could see, it doesn't look good for him. That pink at the neck is not a collar, but a wound. Needless to say, I didn't choose to enter the yard so I could knock on the door and speak to the homeowner; I didn't want to get in the same yard as the big dog.

Poor little guy. Looks like a cutie. I'll have to check in on him next time to see if he survived.