That’s what my smirking wife asked me one evening.
I was on the couch watching various self-defense videos; the last few were how to defend against attacking dogs. Since my wife and I both run, and she’d been chased more than once, I thought she’d understand the value in knowing the proper way to put a dog in a choke-hold.
But not my wife, oh, no. Even though she’s been stalked by creepers, chased by dogs, struck at by rattlesnakes hiding in the only shrub on the block, the thought that anything might happen to warrant a little preparation is utterly absurd. She scoffs at danger and fears nothing—man, beast, or dog.
Undeterred by her scoffs, I continued watching, learning, soaking it in. I probably will never be attacked by a dog, but if I do…
A few months later, Mr. Situational Awareness, prepared for everything, dog fighting kung-fu master fell asleep around noon on a hot Saturday while his wife was in the house and his kids played outside in their normally quiet neighborhood.
A nap is not a normal thing in my house; if it happens, it’s needed and it’s a hard sleep we fall into. That’s why I didn’t hear when my oldest daughter’s best friend busted into the house saying dogs were attacking my daughter.
My fearless wife, who is also a talented athlete, ran around the block only to find three large bull-dogs fighting my daughter and our little dog, Sam. My daughter was covered in mostly Sam’s blood, but her mother only saw blood. With words that shocked the neighborhood and a fierceness that would make wonder woman proud, my daughter and wife fought the dogs hard enough that one ran home, giving Sam the chance to escape. The other two followed him to our house, where I was just coming out the door.
Sam bolted inside with one big bull dog close behind. I ran after them and found them in a back room, where the bull dog had Sam down in the corner and was attacking his throat. I put the bull dog in a choke from behind—he was too busy with Sam to notice me—squeezing as hard as I could and lifting him off the ground. When I finally released him after half a minute or so, he fell into a lump on the floor. I opened the nearest door, he came to, shook himself, and went home.
A year has passed. Daughter’s bites have healed, the stitches are long gone, and her scars are badges of bravery. Sam spent a few weeks at the vet, where they patched and stitched him up well. The bull dogs are gone from the neighborhood, and the owner offered to and did pay all the vet bills. My wife stitched up her own cuts without even an aspirin using hairs that she plucked from the dogs themselves. Well, something like that.
My wife and daughter did all the real fighting, I’m ashamed to say. But the chokehold video did come in handy, and I haven’t taken a nap since.