Nattily attired in a blue sweat suit, I bounded along with gusto, deeply inhaling the fresh air. I treasured the brief, solitary runs. I could think, plan, pray a little and fortify to face the welter of problems that always awaited me at the office. Breathing heavily, I reached the crest of the hill. At precisely that moment, a dog came crushing out of the bushes at my right. It had almond-shaped eyes on its wedged-shaped head, staring at me hungrily. Massive V-shaped jaws mounted on a thick muscular neck stiffed at the wind. These jaws were capable of snapping shut. Suddenly, the dog sprang like a panther, closely bowling me over, but I side-stepped, invading the main force. Instantly, the dog sprang again. I met it with feet spread in the fighting stance I had learnt in Karate. Side-stepping, I thrust at the dog’s head as it leapt at me, then kicked the dog as it jumped, knocking it aside. As I striked at the dog, it would leap and slash, gnashing teeth, finding its mark.
Blood seeped through my sweaty pants and the taste made the dog crazy for more. It pounced at me with increasing fury, its cold, glassy black eyes boring into mine with a mindless fixity of purpose. I was looking into the eyes of death. Wobbling on weakened legs, I fanned off another mad rush of the dog. I raced for the nearest tree but I was too slow. The dog overtook me, snapping at my heels. In desperation, I leapt into a spindly, dead pine and scrambled upwards. Unfortunately, the tree kept bending until my feet dangled less than six foots from the ground. The dog jumped and bit deep into my right leg near the knee. I gasped as blood spouted from the wound.
Only then did I fully comprehend: This thing really mean to destroy me. The realization filled me with a toweling rage and fired my body with an adrenaline. I dropped to the ground and began growling and bellowing like the dog itself, kicked and flailed at it. “If you are going to kill me,” I screamed, “I am going to die fighting!” I had been warring with my captor for two hours and was totally exhausted. I had beaten the dog badly around the head and shoulders yet it hardly seemed fazed. It stood with its eyes fixed on me, ready to dismember. Suddenly, I saw a blue car bouncing over the field towards me. It stopped ten meters away and a man got out and waved. “Wild dog!” I yelled, “Get back in your car! Do you have a gun?” “Yes, I have a gun,” the man hollered.
The car lumbered closer. The man took his gun from under his seat, leaned out the window and fired several shots. The dog fell dead. I sagged against a bush and gulped air. “I will never be able to thank you enough… I am lucky to be alive,” I said to the man. This was my only experience with a mad dog and perhaps a narrow escape I had in my lifetime. I still remembered it with some shaking of my nerves and I think it will not be possible for me to forget it for some spacing time to come.