So I’m running and I hear a dog bark. My first instinct? Look around. Look for water, a climbable tree, a fence, a ditch, a heavy branch, an abandoned bike, an open car door, a knife, a gun, or a vortex of some sort. Sounds extreme, I know. But I have my reasons, largely stemming from being mauled by 2 hell hounds (aka rottweilers) 7 years ago while jogging. It was probably my only real near death experience. I mean I’ve had close calls while driving and other minor sh#t like that, but these beasts tore me to the ground. I was expecting my throat to be ripped open any second, and I literally thought to myself, “This is a horrible way to die.” But somehow I survived (divine intervention, I’m convinced) with only about 9 bites to the major defense areas (arms, legs, buttocks). Nonetheless, seven years later, the sound of a bigger dog barking sends my mind into a state of alertness as I weigh out my options to avoid another such encounter. But…then there’s the side of me when I’m running with my extendable steel baton that desires another chance at fight or flight, hoping this time, with the odds evened out a bit, that I would choose the former. I fantasize while running sometimes about beating the hell out of a pit bull or a rotty (I hate that word – it makes them sound so cuddly). I come running to the rescue of a child or elderly victim. One of the beasts attaches itself to my arm while I break the jaw of the other. The pain only spurs on my anger as I leap into the lake and drown the animal in full view of its redneck owner who comes out to see what’s going on. Seeing one of his dogs with a split open head and the other one floating in the water incites him to come after me in a blind rage. But my fist meets his face before he can even step into the water. A nerdowell is down for the count and his bastard pit bulls will never menace the free world again…. Okay, okay, I’m going a little far with this fantasy. Maybe instead of “prometheus spark” this blog should be dubbed “Walter Mitty’s Musings.” But perhaps fantasy can be helpful when dealing with posttraumatic stress. After all, with such fantasies we recreate the situation but with a positive end. But then again, I don’t know… maybe it’s unhealthy. Maybe someone can help me out with this.
Nov 6, 2009
rotties and reveries
So I’m running and I hear a dog bark. My first instinct? Look around. Look for water, a climbable tree, a fence, a ditch, a heavy branch, an abandoned bike, an open car door, a knife, a gun, or a vortex of some sort. Sounds extreme, I know. But I have my reasons, largely stemming from being mauled by 2 hell hounds (aka rottweilers) 7 years ago while jogging. It was probably my only real near death experience. I mean I’ve had close calls while driving and other minor sh#t like that, but these beasts tore me to the ground. I was expecting my throat to be ripped open any second, and I literally thought to myself, “This is a horrible way to die.” But somehow I survived (divine intervention, I’m convinced) with only about 9 bites to the major defense areas (arms, legs, buttocks). Nonetheless, seven years later, the sound of a bigger dog barking sends my mind into a state of alertness as I weigh out my options to avoid another such encounter. But…then there’s the side of me when I’m running with my extendable steel baton that desires another chance at fight or flight, hoping this time, with the odds evened out a bit, that I would choose the former. I fantasize while running sometimes about beating the hell out of a pit bull or a rotty (I hate that word – it makes them sound so cuddly). I come running to the rescue of a child or elderly victim. One of the beasts attaches itself to my arm while I break the jaw of the other. The pain only spurs on my anger as I leap into the lake and drown the animal in full view of its redneck owner who comes out to see what’s going on. Seeing one of his dogs with a split open head and the other one floating in the water incites him to come after me in a blind rage. But my fist meets his face before he can even step into the water. A nerdowell is down for the count and his bastard pit bulls will never menace the free world again…. Okay, okay, I’m going a little far with this fantasy. Maybe instead of “prometheus spark” this blog should be dubbed “Walter Mitty’s Musings.” But perhaps fantasy can be helpful when dealing with posttraumatic stress. After all, with such fantasies we recreate the situation but with a positive end. But then again, I don’t know… maybe it’s unhealthy. Maybe someone can help me out with this.
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Reminds me of every time I see a story on the news about a church bus that flipped and rolled off the highway, and a bunch of people were killed; I think: if only they had simply stayed home, they would have been much better off.
ReplyDeleteits very healthy, i think. i read a book on ptsd (waking the tiger) wherein you guide the person toward a more acceptable end to their traumatic story. in the book there was an example where an eskimo kid was attacked by dogs. in therapy he was guided with imagery toward a better ending to the story. and his ptsd symptoms diminished.
ReplyDeletegood to know... i'm not too much of a freak.
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