Mothers

Our parks recently reopened, so yesterday I took the kids to a less-popular one in hopes we’d be there alone, and I got my wish. After playing for about an hour, I noticed a large brown dog running toward us. There were some owners behind him so I didn’t think too much of it. We like dogs and will always pet them with the owner’s permission. I tried to pet this one as it approached, full speed. It became clear pretty quickly this wasn’t a normal dog, but rather a dog full of adrenaline and aggression and unable to control its own strength. He jumped up on John and knocked him to the ground. Then he jumped on top of Quinn, knocking her to the ground, scratching her chest, and biting (lightly-but enough to leave red marks) at her cheek. The owners came up behind it and as politely as I could I said “I think that dog is supposed to be on a leash.” The teenage girl replied that he had escaped from the house and they were trying to catch him. During this time the dog proceeded to knock Owen down and then came and jumped up on my chest, ripped a hole in my shirt, and knocked me down onto the bench behind me. Quinn came and sat by me crying and I decided we just needed to get the heck out of there. We gathered all our stuff up, but the dog would not leave us alone. With my arms full, I told my kids to follow me to the van. As we walked away, the dog knocked Owen down and was on top of him, mouth level with his head. What I knew was that this was a dog that had already ripped a hole in my shirt and bit at Quinn’s cheek and all I could imagine was it taking a much stronger bite out of Owen’s face. His owners were sort of trying to catch him, but given the fact that he was practically attacking my kids, I felt they weren’t really trying as hard as they should. As the dog hovered open-mouthed above Owen, I screamed (and I am NOT a screamer, folks) “Get your dog away from my kids!” Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled, but I was scared, and nothing was stopping the dog. I ran to the dog, yanked Owen out from under him, swung him up into my arms, and we all ran to the van. The dog followed us but luckily did not try to get in as I feared. We were all shaking when we closed the doors and Carly said, “I’ve never heard you scream like that.” I replied that it was just nature, that when I mom sees her babies being threatened that she would react as powerfully as she could to defend them. My kids were freaked out afterwards and Owen has since repeatedly told me he “didn’t like being attacked by the dog.” My thoughts were full of worry last night, knowing it wasn’t too big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but also thinking that it could’ve been so much worse. And then my mind went to other mothers. Mothers carrying their babies across rivers to try to find a safe home. Mothers who are afraid to let their sons go on jogs for fear of what might happen to them on the street. Mothers crossing the Mediterranean on rafts, fleeing war torn countries to find safety. It is nature that these mothers are trying to protect their babies, and when I say I care about these things, it’s because I’m a mother too—and because I’m a human. I don’t know all the answers or any perfect solutions, but I know we have to care— we can donate to causes that help, vote for people willing to try to find solutions, speak out on issues that matter, and listen to stories of people who are experiencing life differently than ourselves.