Kiko's Fight Part 1: Narrative

On Sunday I learned the literal meaning of "having a dog in the fight." While walking my dog on a leash, two other dogs approached and a fight developed. Everyone walked away, but my dog and I both received medical attention afterwards.

Finnish psychologist Antti Revonsuo argues that "the biological function of dreaming is to simulate threatening events, and to rehearse threat perception and threat avoidance." (See also a recent Psychology Today article.)

I've never served in the military, and haven't been involved in a physical fight in 20+ years. So as to head off nightmares about the dogfight, I decided to process the experience the best way I know how--writing about it, using the National Transportation Safety Board's Aircraft Accident Report format as a model. This article is my Narrative Statement: the events of Sunday afternoon as best I could recall them.

On Sunday, 11 May 2008 at 13:07 PDT I left my residence in West Richland, Washington. With me was my altered male dog Kiko, a black Labrador mix. Our intention was to walk to the summit of Candy Mountain. Kiko wore a red backpack containing water, a leather collar with metal tags, and a red cloth collar with his leash. I held the other end of his leash throughout the walk.

We approached Candy Mountain from the north, walking south on Candy Mountain Avenue. We turned left on Hershey Road and followed it around. Near the corner of Hershey Road and Starburst Court I noticed a [particular type of] vehicle parked partway up Candy Mountain. Near the [vehicle] I observed two people and two dogs.

As we continued up the trail towards the summit of Candy Mountain, Kiko was behaving excitedly--particularly so after noticing the two dogs above us on Candy Mountain. Specifically, he was pulling against his leash and collar. Given his excited state of mind I decided to take an indirect route up Candy Mountain rather than the most direct path.

We turned south at the end of the fence line, then followed it as it led south and curved west. This track intersected with another track that led northwest towards the summit of Candy Mountain. We started up that track towards the summit, not observing any dogs or people.

About a quarter of the way up the slope I observed two dogs ahead of us on the trail, walking down towards us. One dog was white and appeared to be a Staffordshire terrier. The other dog was black and appeared to be a Labrador mix.

Kiko also noticed the dogs and his excitement level appeared to increase; he again pulled against his leash. We stopped walking and I put Kiko in a “down-stay” position, which meant his hips, chest, and front legs were on the ground. I verbally commanded him to stay put, and may have stepped on his leash to further restrain him.

When the two other dogs arrived at our location Kiko stood up and faced the white dog. They sniffed each other excitedly. Then the white dog mounted Kiko from the side, putting his chest on Kiko’s shoulders.

I tried to push the white dog off Kiko’s shoulders, while again commanding Kiko to lie down and pushing him to the ground. Simultaneously, Kiko snapped at the white dog. The white dog grabbed Kiko on the right side of the neck and held on. Kiko started yelping and ended up on his back. As the white dog held on to Kiko’s neck, the black dog started biting Kiko on his back and left thigh.

As Kiko was on his back I tried to pull the white dog from Kiko’s neck. Kiko was screaming and snapping in apparent pain and panic. While I was trying to disengage the white dog from his neck, Kiko bit my left forearm, my left index and middle fingers, and my right thumb.

When the altercation ended, I had separated the three dogs. The white dog was subdued under my right thigh. I stood up and continued shouting at the white and black dogs. They made no more aggressive moves or noises. After a few minutes they moved away.

During the altercation I dropped my end of Kiko’s leash. After taking hold again I looked for injuries. I initially assessed Kiko and my wounds as not life-threatening. Blood was slowly oozing from my injuries. Kiko was walking without a significant limp, and I did not observe him leaving a blood trail.

Kiko and I returned the way we came. After walking about 300 yards I dialed 911 on my mobile telephone and explained what had just happened. As we rounded the base of Candy Mountain I observed the white and black dogs entering the [vehicle] along with their people. From a distance I watched the [vehicle] descend the mountain until it was stopped by a West Richland Police officer at the corner of Candy Mountain Boulevard and Kennedy Road.

While on the telephone with the 911 operator I re-assessed my wounds and declined emergency medical attention.

After returning to my home I spoke briefly with the responding officer. I reiterated that I did not desire medical attention, but that my first priority was to have Kiko’s injuries assessed. I informed him that neither Kiko nor I had any evidence of significant bleeding, so I knew I did not require immediate medical attention. But given my ignorance of veterinary first aid I wanted to get Kiko to a professional as soon as possible. [The officer] left me his business card and asked me to contact him when I had finished attending to Kiko and myself. A few minutes later I left the house with Kiko to seek veterinary and medical attention.

After returning home I received a call from the Benton County Sheriff’s Department. I informed [the deputy] that I did not wish to press any charges against the owners of the white and black dogs. He gave me the name and telephone number of the owner.

A few minutes later I contacted [the owner]. At his request I told him how much the veterinary service charged me for Kiko’s treatment. He said he was writing me a check for the full amount immediately.

Tomorrow: Our injuries and medical treatments.