Mad (August 30-Day Writing Challenge)

In Fiction on August 16, 2012 at 10:02 PM

(14th in this challenge)

I just broke up a dog fight today. The dogs have to know that you’re present and that you’re coming. If you surprise them or stick a hand in unexpectedly, they might not realize it’s yours. It can also help to approach them in a commanding manner without fear or shrieking.

Usually (and hopefully) only one is the aggressor. That’s the one who needs to be pushed (on the front shoulder blades and with the back of the hand, that way if it bites, it’s less likely to puncture the arteries in your forearm) back. The other one can just be blocked from advancing.
It was an English Pointer and a Boxer today. The Boxer kept attacking after I brought my hands back after separating them. I had to push the Boxer back, but the Pointer just needed to be stopped from advancing. If you’re unlucky and both dogs are pushing toward each other, it can be almost impossible to stop them.

It happens but it hasn’t happened here recently, except with our volunteer couple (human, of course).

Anyone in my job long enough can tell you that some dogs who are best friends suddenly will attack, and then a minute later, be best friends as before. Rarely lovers, though. Never volunteers.

The other volunteers and I never understand the cause of their fights or who attacks first. The couple charge at each other in the same instant like two ends of the same elastic band when stretched then released, so perhaps whoever first hurls over the midpoint toward the other is at fault. During the fight, no one intervenes; we’re the audience. Part of me half-enjoys not having any expected responsibility. Instead, we react like any audience and suggest which the most likely aggressor is. One is larger-framed than the other but why assume something from that?

No one is aggression-free.

We all have moments in our lives when we or someone else instigates the fight in public and we engage, and even while embroiled, we’re stupefied by our readiness and uncertain of what action or reaction directly provoked. An enigmatic source of ignition impregnated a kindling that birthed a fuel of basic violence, a naturally recurring wonder that throughout the carefree rest of life we’d always swallowed away, only burping the fume of into a wicked daydream. Then in the conflict, repeating contacts and insults devoured our fires and dwindled them to eventual, complete devitalization.

A coworker always approaches me afterwards. “You have to admit how much better it is to watch,” they say, “when the one that’s built to lose is giving it equally to the one that’s built to win.”

I’ve known dozens of dogs who could not stop attacking. If they had human sense, I assume we could have shared some reasoning. As it is, they’re ended and more dogs arrive and take over the space and you’ve forgotten the predecessors. If they fight, you want them to stop and act peacefully again quickly and on their own so that you can return to your work and have coffee break after coffee break. You don’t want to praise their aggression even if you’re an audience to it for a brief time, enjoying the sport of it. And in the instance (that’s more common than you think) that the one built to be ambushed, dominated, over-taken, and lose doesn’t cower and may even be the aggressor more than not, you try not praise. I say that, however, while knowing that when I must break up a fight, sometimes I’m pushing the one built to loose back with a little less.

Hmmm…I have no idea if it’s good or bad. My eyes just glaze over.

Update: Thank you follower, for letting me know that this didn’t post this morning. I did something wrong. Sorry.

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