Duck hunting with a capital C!

                                                                           

                                                                             

Recently I was attacked by a dog. Yes indeed you heard it right here, a dog took to the Duck.  I was trying to protect my son, who has long had a fear of dogs, by Duck-plucking him out of a tricky corner.  The dog leapt up, pawed baby Duck out of my motherly grip then threw me to the ground with its fangs firmly clenched in my duck-like arm.  Long story made medium....baby Duck was freaking out.  Mutha Ducka had to remain calm so as to not fucking further incite fear into one already up to his ears in panic. There is a history and reason for his fear which involves being rumbled (in a most amorous way) by a very tall dog when he was just a two year old duckling.  In one fell swoop I realise that any past attempts to banish a fear of dogs in baby Duck are now redundant!  Gone burger, into the ether, vanished, wasted.  All those hours spent coaxing and cajoling him toward the dog have now gone up in canine-infused smoke!  Doggone.  Prior to this monumental pawing incident I used to get annoyed with dog owners who, when their dog was unleashed, would proclaim 'he won't hurt you'  'she's really a gentle dog' and suchlike upon seeing baby duck wide berthing.   The brazen way they would 'assume' our story would get my goat big time!  Now, however, I anticipate my goat will be of mountainous proportions.  An Everest goat, wild and untamed.  Gargantuan goatarama.

I get so fucked off with dog owners being so defensive.  I am sure your dog is harmless, I haven't even opened my beak and quacked.  Yes your dog is off its lead, yes baby Duck is scared.  But stop!  Don't try to presume you know our story.  It fucked me off in the past and it's going to piss me right off in the future to encounter this kind of response.  There may be a myriad of reasons why someone is wary of a dog.  I would much rather you said something along the lines of  'I am so sorry I have my dog off its lead, I know fucking damn well it's supposed to be restrained  I can see the duckling is distressed by this.  I hope we didn't further consolidate a fear in the young feathered one'.  SAID NO dog owner EVER!!!!!  I am currently working on a response for subsequent encounters.

 Don't get me wrong, I do like dogs, possibly in the past would even have ventured to say that I love dogs.  I grew up with the most gorgeous golden Labrador called Sandy who I loved unconditionally and never, ever feared.  My brother had a very lively black Labrador later down the track who was almost one of the family.  Even baby Duck, when less than 1 years old, would reach out to Nero and stroke him.  This was pre-rumble days.

I was in Auckland recently visiting a friend with the very topically applicable nickname 'Scooby Doo'.  The Dog and the Duck.  We walked along the waterfront discussing dog fears.  I was mindful of my reaction to the many dogs we passed, both the four legged and two legged variety :-).  What illuminated itself to me in the brief brush with these dogs was that, around half of them, elicited a strong visual of teeth.  Someone unscathed would see a dog but I saw teeth!  Gnashing big fangs with drool dripping down and the upper lip (is that what it's called on a dog?) resting on the top of the gums so there's no mistaking the incisors!

Yep, just what I need is another fear to add to my already exhaustive list!  I'm hoping I will return to the former Duck someday, friend of the dog.  Bygone duck doggone.

I also became aware of a subtle change this dog-on-duck drama brought about.  For a significant time after the canine invasion I was aware of a kind of flatness of feeling.  The Duck was not motivated in the slightest toward anything.  A form of flat lining really.  Post traumatic duck disorder.  Almost as if all your energy has been expended on just getting through the ordeal that suddenly you find you have nothing left to feel.  Neither up nor down just flat.  The emotional equivalent of sitting on the fence!  Neither pond half full nor empty.  You get the picture.  Fuck a duck!
Almost as if to make up for my (short-lived) flatness came dreams so vivid and lucid at night that I struggled to separate them from the reality of the day.  It was as if the bite of the dog unleashed some historical toxins and in doing so freed unresolved issues to play out in my dreams.  So by day I was Duck without a bone and by night a Duck with the most monumental bone of contention for some misdemeanor of days gone by.
So in some ways I am grateful for the episode with the dog.  In its wake it released a lot of negative things from the past and made me a little less fearless (of other things).  When the plane I was travelling to Auckland on experienced some turbulence I didn't have my dog bog standard response of minor panic and clutching/tightening of seat belt.  Nor sirree, the Duck felt free from fear and unease surrendering to the notion that some things are out of our control.  We don't know what's coming next and from where it cometh.  I certainly didn't wake up on that doggone day with any notion or suggestion of what was to happen.  Such is life.  We don't know what may lie around that corner. By my way of thinking it is just as well.

Just as every dog has its day...so shall every Duck!

#dogattack #motherlove #dogowners