Got chased
by a dog again the other day. I was enjoying a blissful summer morning ride,
alone, along a gravel road in southern Manitoba, between the Mennonite towns of
Winkler and Plum Coulee. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge, menacing white
dog burst out of the yard of a farmhouse and was after me. Instinct kicked
in—for both me and the pooch. I bolted, pedalling furiously, while unleashing a
string of loud and profane threats. But the
Moby Dick of dogs was not deterred; it pursued me, and for a long time. Usually
a dog gives up after about 10 seconds of chasing; however, this time the game seemed
to go on for ever—at least 30 seconds. A narrow escape. My heart was thumping
to beat the band. Thus did I learn that Mennonite dogs are not necessarily
pacifists.
This
incident is only the most recent of several nasty dog encounters I’ve had in
recent weeks, including another close call when I was out riding with my son. But
it seems inevitable. When you ride country roads, you’re going to encounter
dogs. There’s just something primal about a dog’s desire to chase a bicycle. So
far, I’ve not been bitten or maimed, but I’m starting to think that it’s just a
matter of time. Plus I’m beginning to wonder about my current strategy of
trying to simply outrun the dogs. One of these times, I’m going to get caught,
or I’m going to wipe out trying to escape. So I figure I’ve got to come up with
a new strategy.
If you look
around the cycling forums on the interweb, you’ll find that this is a common
problem for cyclists and therefore lots of people have advice. One of the more
thoughtful (and funny) articles I’ve come across on this topic can be found at
crazyguyonabike. There Neil Gunton makes a compelling argument for not trying
to out run dogs. Instead, he suggests fighting back. Not by hitting the dog
with your pump or attempting to kick it from a moving bike—these are
ridiculously dangerous moves, he points out. Instead, Gunton makes the case for
slowing down, even stopping, and spraying the pooch in the face with some kind
of non-lethal dog spray.
Not my actual hand. |
He
recommends Halt!, a pepper spray-style “dog repellant” that comes in a small aerosol
can which can be stashed in a pocket or handlebar bag for easy access. Halt!
claims to have a range of about 10 feet. Apparently U.S. postal carriers have
been using Halt! for years, with a fair bit of success. Generally, when a dog
gets sprayed in the face, it will back off and rub its face in the grass for
half an hour until the pepper wears off. Gunton’s theory is that if this
happens to a dog a few times, the pooch might even learn that chasing bicycles
equals burning pain in the eyeballs. Therefore, said dog won’t be so keen to
chase bicycles. The primal desire to avoid pain may just trump the primal need
to chase. Think of it as back-to-school for the dogs.
After reading
Gunton’s piece, I’ve decided to change my dog strategy. It’s time to weaponize
and engage. I’m going to start packing heat—of the capsicum variety—and when a
canine comes at me, I will stop and spray (and possibly pray—that it works).
Then all I’ll have to worry about is out-pedalling the dog owners, though in my
experience, the owners are rarely around when these chases occur. This new
approach is not going to be easy for me. The instinct to flee in the face of
attack runs deep in the Gates’ genes; it’s one of our few evolutionary
advantages.
August has
been a great month of cycling for me: hot days, dusty roads, lots of new
territory, and even a few small adventures. The surprising possibilities of gravel
grinding continue to unfold. No way I’m going to allow the pleasures of back-road
riding to go to the dogs.
Ah, dogs. When I was eight two german shepherds chased me on my bike. They had done it once or twice before, and I always outran them. This time, I didn't see them coming, and they caught me--teeth right into my hip. But, damnit, I love the furry bastards, so the worst part of the experience was being afraid of all german shepherds for the last twenty years and feeling guilty about it because I knew that those two fellas just had bad owners. It's taken hanging out with some excellently-trained K9s, shepherd and malinois furballs, to get me to the point where I'm only suspicious of them and not terrified. I look forward to the day when I can meet one and not even be suspicious.
ReplyDeleteThat said, I don't blame you for taking up this new tactic, especially if you're riding with your son. I know I'd feel guilty for it, though, just like I did when I had to defend myself from the two that wanted to eat me when I was eight. Way less guilty, though, if I were protecting my child. ;)
That's a harrowing tale, Moose. I'd need some serious therapy to get over a traumatic encounter like that. It seems most people I've talked to lately have a dog bite story of some kind. (It's been on my mind, so I've been asking.)I heard one just the other day about a local jogger who got attacked by Great Dane and fought back by punching the lunging dog. Apparently the owner was furious.
DeleteWow! That surprises me a little--not about the dog owner, but about the dog. Great Danes are usually so lazy. It takes most of their energy just to operate that giant frame. Dane owners, though, tend to be super-protective of their dogs, I've noticed. But, hey, just like in dealing with people, if you attack, you get punched. Them's the rules of life.
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