The Good Shepherd Part 1: Once Bitten

Photo by Lesly Juarez on Unsplash

Throw to the wolves.

When I was about 8 years old, I used to play in a field next to my house. The field was home to a couple of rental properties.

The renter next door was a young bachelor named Steve. Steve owned a couple of dogs that were kept behind a chain-link fence around his porch. One dog was a Labrador and the other was a German Shepherd. 

I stood on the farthest edge of the field, the furthest point from my house. It was next to the road that led to Steve’s driveway. Steve turned onto the road and stopped. 

“Hi Bethany, I found a super ball. Do you want it?”  

“YES!” I jumped. 

“Okay! I’ll meet you at the house,” he smiled.  

A free bouncy ball to an 8-year-old is on par with winning the lottery. Major score! I ran through the grass as fast as I could. Exciting bouncy ball thoughts filled my mind. 

What color was the ball? Did it have sparkle? Was it one of those teeny tiny superpower ones or one of those cool big ones? Where, oh, where would I bounce it? The driveway? The stone stairs? The school brick wall? The possibilities were endless. 

Photo by Tara Winstead from Pexels

Steve let his dogs out to play in the field. I went from a jog to a sprint. Happiness was less than ten feet away.

“Steve!!!!!” I screamed as if he forgot.

Between my speed, screaming and, arms flailing, Steve’s German Shepherd perceived me as a threat.

The dog charged at me. Using his front paws, he leaped up and knocked me to the ground, scratching my backside up with his paws. He drove his jaws into my ass and pierced me with numerous bites. 

My blood-curdling scream alerted my mother, who flew out of the house. Steve nabbed the dog to restrain him while my mother ran to my aid.

Steve threw both dogs in the house before receiving an earful from my mother. 

My bloody body was imprinted with countless teeth marks and deep cuts. The horror continued to escalate after a stinging antiseptic was applied to every single wound. 

The police were called and the dog was put down. Steve moved away not too long after that. It was a bad situation for everyone. 

To make matters worse, it left me scarred and I developed a gigantic fear of dogs. German Shepherds in particular. 

Photo by Max Kleinen on Unsplash

When my father heard about the attack, he assumed my mother was being melodramatic.

That was until he and my future stepmom asked to see the “so-called” cuts since my face had already begun to heal. I stripped off my clothes. 

“HOLY SHIT!” my father yelled. “Oh honey, he REALLY got you.” 

Yes, Dad…I KNOW. I was there.  

I was so terrified of dogs that I shook if one was present. Since my father was a dog person, this was a problem.

One that my father was determined to solve. He went to the extreme and brought home a pup named Sadie.

Sadie was half Siberian Husky and half TIMBER WOLF! 

My father’s rationale was a wolf was totally fine to have as a pet because she’s “not a dog!” If I were an adult, I’d argue otherwise, but as a child, this felt oddly reasonable. 

Sadie took to me immediately. I suspect Sadie sensed my fear because she made it her mission to protect me. She always wanted to be around me whenever I visited my father. 

When I rode my bike up and down the driveway, she ran alongside me. When I practiced archery, she supervised. If I ventured out to play in the forest, she stayed close, keeping an ear out for any danger lurking nearby. 

Sadie was a game-changer in my world. My street cred as a weird loner kid only skyrocketed after news broke that my pet was a wolf. As crazy as it sounds, my old man was right.

While it took a wolf to cure my fear of dogs, I was still wary of German Shepherds. Fortunately, no one I knew owned a German Shepherd.

It wasn’t a problem until I became a teenager. I landed a job working retail at a little hippie shop called Two Moon Traders. 

The owner’s name was Jerry. Jerry was a chill hippie dude with a mustache and long hair down his back. The only problem was that Jerry owned a German Shepherd named Athena. The two were practically attached at the hip.  

I shared the story about my childhood attack. Jerry was empathetic and assured me that Athena was incredibly gentle and docile.

Athena tilted her head at me, but I was incredibly skeptical and skittish. Jerry promised to keep her in his office during my shifts so I took the job. 

The first few shifts were great, because Jerry wasn’t working, which meant Athena wasn’t in the store. However, my first shift with Jerry onsite was one I’ll never forget. 

Photo by Hugo Delauney on Unsplash

Athena trailed Jerry to the back office. I stood behind the cash wrap. My eyes followed Athena’s every step. Athena felt my less than subtle gaze. She stopped at the cash wrap entrance and starred me down. I scowled at her like the tough guy I was. 

“’ Thena!” Jerry hollered from the back office.  

Her ears perked up. She broke eye contact and answered his call. I breathed and focused on the customers.  

One of the closing tasks was cleaning the floor jewelry cases with Windex. There were about three or five of these big cases. The glass had to be cleaned on top and in front of each of them. 

With my back to the office door, I crouched down to clean the front of each glass case. The feeling of being watched came over me. I swear, I heard the Jaws soundtrack in my head. 

A chill went down my spine. I suddenly felt vulnerable, as if I was being hunted. The Jaws theme song escalated to the note that signifies “the kill.”

I blinked and snapped my head to the right. All I saw was an open jaw and SHARP TEETH less than an inch from my face!  

Stay tuned for the next installment, “The Good Shepherd Part 2: Kiss Goodbye”

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