How Not to Break Up A Dog Fight

So I had other posts planned for you. Fun posts full of shenanigans and balls and product recs. Instead, I bring you this.

Here are a few lessons for you today, kids:

1.) Always keep your tetanus shot up to date.

2.) Don’t interfere in dog fights.

3.) Especially not with your bare hands.

4.) Really I mean it.

5.) No, really. Don’t.

I was at the dog park last night with Ponyboy, and we’d been there for like an hour, because he was WILD yesterday. I had been talking with a lady and her son, and her dog was playing right in front of me. All of a sudden, another seemingly happy dog approached and then time slowed down. It was like those slow-mo videos of people running toward each other through the flower fields, arms outstretched and ready to embrace.

Only there was no intent to embrace. They were out to kill, yo.

It was just one of those weird dog things where they instantly hated each other for no reason. Neither was being previously aggressive at all. but the two had an instant problem with each other, and the bigger one really went in for it.

I stood there, mouth agape, and my internal monologue went something like, “OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG WHAT DO I DO. OMG OMG OMG DO I HELP. NO, YOU SHOULDN’T HELP. NO, HELP. OK, just wait.”

Now I’ve seen some scuffles between dogs before. Usually it really all just comes down to posturing and saying, “I am SO much tougher than you. Watch me act like Imma hurt you, but I really don’t want to hurt you, bro. OK, let’s shake it off now.”

This was not like that.

The owner I’d been talking to tried to scoop her dog, but the bigger one wouldn’t let him get away. In the tussle, the other dog went after Owner Lady and bit her face. She was frantically trying to grab her dog, and the other dog was going after her and her dog, and Owner Lady was screaming.

My balls grew ten sizes and I jumped in out of instinct to help her not get hurt further. I don’t think I had a single functioning brain cell at that moment. And, as dogs tend to do in these situations, Owner Lady’s dog did the bite redirect thing back at me out of instinct when he felt my arm. He clamped down, wouldn’t let go and then realized what was happening and stopped.

I kept trying to help separate, kicking the dogs apart along with other people. The dogs would not let go of each other. It was not like Rose’s empty promise to Jack to never let go. These dogs really meant it. Finally, the other dog’s owner got him pulled away.

At that point I was shaking and stood there and listened to the circus music on my head. We all stood around looking at each other like, “Uuuuuuhhhh what now? Do we hug it out?”

And then I looked down and saw this.

More ew.


OK, that’s actually AFTER I stopped bleeding. I actually looked down and saw gushing blood, but I don’t have that footage for you. I know you’re disappointed.

Meanwhile, Ponyboy was sitting there all like, “OMG WHAT GAME IS THIS? HI! DO YOU HAVE SNACKS?”

Owner Lady rushed her dog off to the vet to get many, many staples, and she gave me her number. She is also named Wendy, but I can only assume she isn’t as crazy as me.

Someone found the wherewithal to call the police to take a report, I thought to call Bora, and then the paramedics showed up.

And by paramedics, I mean firemen. Hello, lads. Nice to see you.

So I don’t know if it’s standard protocol or it was a slow night at the station, but they sent FOUR OF THEM. So they were all hovering, asking me questions, wrapping up my arm and shiz. They asked repeatedly if I wanted to take the ambulance to the hospital, and I said I didn’t think that was necessary. I have to assume that they just wanted to spend more time with me and hold my hand and stuff.

After dropping the Pones off at home, sweet Bora drove me to the stand-alone ER, and it was going to cost five paychecks to have them treat me. But the doc took a quick peek and said it could wait until the next day to go to my regular doc. Whew.

So now I have antibiotics, and I’m all wrapped up and in a brace to help the soft tissue damage. It hurts like a bitch, man. It may look like just two punctures, but the clamping down of the jaws crushed some shiz up in there pretty good.

Other Not-Crazy Wendy sent her dog’s rabies certificate, so now I can be sure I’m not going to die. That’s comforting. Know what’s not comforting? Typing with one hand. This post took about 5,972 hours to type. You’re welcome.

So let that be a lesson to you all about breaking up dog fights.

Unless you just really want to meet firemen in awkward situations. Then I TOTALLY recommend it.


I am pitiful.