Yes, I finally used my mace. I have had many a close call with the dogs on my running routes, but they usually respond to the usual trying-to-hide-my-panic strong yell of "GO HOME" or occasionally I have had to throw a rock or stick at the more persistent barkers. I have only been bit once and it was by one of those "ankle-biter" type breeds and I think it barely broke the skin. That said, I am afraid of dogs on my route. No former papergirl isn't afraid, let me tell you. I was definitely traumatized while delivering the paper to my neighbors when I was growing up. I can't really blame those dogs for barking at me like I was the enemy, I was delivering their owners' favorite discipline weapon.
And anyone that has been reading my blog for awhile knows that I am afraid of farm birds as well. Yes I have been traumatized by poultry as well! When I was about four years old, my sister and I were visiting one of my dad's friends that lived on a farm. My father was a no-nonsense type of guy and he sort of expected us to take care of ourselves right from the get-go... anyway my two year old sister and I were trying to make it into this friend's front door and these freakin' poultry birds were making a huge racket about us coming in the gate to the front door. My hard-ass father yelled from the truck, "Just walk right in there, let em know you're not afraid and they won't bother you." One problem, we were afraid, very, very afraid. I guess we did not show them that we weren't afraid very well, because the next thing I know one those pieces of shit was pecking at my baby sister's eyes!!! Everything after that is a blur. The next thing I remember we were in the emergency room with my mother screaming at my father and my sister with stitches! I have no idea how we got there or how the killer chicken was handled or what. I guess that would be considered a trauma.
So to make a long story longer, when Tommy and I came upon this crazy-ass goose, I was quite nervous. We had just started running on roads after completing about three miles of trails. We were cruising along pretty fast and Tommy was up ahead because he is faster than I am now. There were actually two geese honking at cars as they drove by. One goose smartened up and went honking home, while the other kept chasing the cars. As we approached, the goose was eyeing Tommy up. And then he started to put his head and neck down and twisty and as Tommy put it, "in attack mode". So my maternal instincts kicked in and I started to reach for my mace which I hook onto my pants. Well of course, it had somehow worked itself off my pants and was all tangled up in one of my shirts. So after I wrestled it out, I was trying to figure out which way to point and press. I realized that mace is easy enough to use, but to actually use it effectively takes some skill. The first few squirts ended up on the road and they did not deter mr. goose. I finally hit the little craphead in one of his eyes and ran away really pissed off. We could hear him honking at us for a long time after that. It was scary. Tommy was afraid of where the goose might actually connect his beak/bill. It seemed to be at a rather precarious height, if you know what I mean!
Well, that's all the excitment for this week!