Greetings everyone!

This is my entry for @carolkean's "Too Good to Be True" Rhino Rules Contest #2: Animal Stories. The inspiration that @carolkean has had upon my writing cannot be underestimated. Thank you Carol for all that you do. Another big thank you to everyone at the Fiction Workshop for helping me polish this up.

This piece was a pleasure to write for it honors a childhood special friend of mine. This is a true story.

Taurophobia

One of my earliest memories (I’m told I was about a year old) was seeing a broken and bloodied Doberman Pinscher crumple to the ground after saving my life. My father gave Dexter to my mother as a Christmas present back in ‘76. Dexter was a rust colored, pointy eared, rambunctious older brother. I say that because, although I’m sure I had friends in my childhood, it’s not them I remember playing with every day.

Jefferson City, Montana was a pretty sleepy little town full of mobile homes and free-range cattle. My mother had just gotten home from the grocery store. I was in the front yard on one of those kiddie push-bike things. Some of you might be thinking, “What kind of mother leaves her one-year-old in the yard with a Doberman—those big, strong, athletic looking dogs with the mean looking faces...” Well, I’ll tell you: an intelligent one. Besides, I was never out of her line of sight. Let’s just say that my mother was highly protective of me, which only got worse after this day. Although now that I have a five-year-old of my own, I can appreciate the notion.

This being said, I do realize that Dobies have a reputation. People assume the dogs are inherently aggressive, when it’s more likely the owners training them to be that way. Dobermans are among the most fun-loving and loyal breeds out there. I grew up training Schutzhund protection dogs; I’ve seen my fair share of aggression—and I’m not talking about the animals. Sometimes, it’s the owners that could do with a bit of obedience training…

A jack-fence surrounded the yard. That’s where the wooden posts are set together at an angle forming a letter “A” shape and barbed wire is strung along between them. Fairly sturdy construction when done right.

However, not quite strong enough to stop the raging bull from tearing through it into the yard. Bulls don’t normally go out of their way to demolish fences to get to out-of-the-way places. However, I had apparently possessed the audacity to sit directly between a bull and his ladies. Yup, it was that time of year, and for whatever reason, the bull had wandered around to the opposite side of our little fenced area. Our yard was now directly between him and his future conquests. Also, it was determined later that this particular bull had a raging case of bovine pink-eye. So, he was nearly blind and amorous. Who knows what he thought I was—just a colorful blur between him and a good time. Regardless, he’d begun to paw the ground, lowering his head towards me. My mother came out when the animal was in mid-charge; there was no way she could get to me in time.

Not so for Dexter though.

That wiry tornado of teeth and fur bolted off the porch before my mother had even reached it. I’m not sure how much force it takes to stop a charging bull but I’m pretty certain a Doberman Pinscher doesn’t have what it takes. Nobody told Dexter that though. He latched onto the bull’s face like an Alien face-hugger, tearing into the soft tissues of the animal’s nose and mouth. Dexter had the element of surprise on his side. The bull stopped short of me a few feet, rearing in shock and pain. He took Dexter with him—butting and goring him high into the air. Dexter flew and hit the ground hard. He tried to stand but then collapsed, motionless. That’s the part I remember, particularly the blood oozing out of my playmate’s nose and face.

He’d performed his duty though. My mother took her chance to scoop me up and run to safety within the trailer. When telling the story, she always says how she regretted leaving Dexter outside, but given my stake in the situation, I’m not going to question her decision. Moments later, my mother was on the phone with the bull’s owner. This hadn’t been the first issue our family had had with a trespassing bovine. She not-so-kindly asked the owner to remove his property. Threats of shotgun-ground hamburger may or may not have been involved.

The amazing thing was that, after it was safe to go outside again, my mother found Dexter up and moving. A vet check shortly after revealed some cracked ribs, multiple abrasions, likely a concussion, and a completely blown out eardrum. The vet thought that maybe a stick had been rammed into Dexter’s ear. My guess is that the bull’s bony horn found its way into Dexter’s skull. So, despite being deaf in one ear, Dexter survived and continued to live out a full fourteen years of much rewarded life thereafter.

At first thought, one might think this story a rather gruesome early memory for a child, but I believe it is more of a testament to the bonds that can form between animals and humankind. I had the honor to share many more memories with Dexter and will always be thankful for his part in my life. A life that could have easily been a tad bit shorter if not for his actions.

Some Of My Work

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The Chronicles of Salen Kur’Savien -- A Prequel to A World Long Sundered

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Deep Dream Generations: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

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My Blog
A World Long Sundered -- Chapter 1 Original Version -- Note: This version was edited and broken into the 2 parts of chapter 1 above. Some might like to compare.
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