matahariNew Contributor
When trauma makes you feel less like you...like a zoologist afraid of dogs
So I have been an animal lover and carer my entire life and in 2014 got an honours degree in zoology and flitted off to work with monkeys in south Africa and orangutans in borneo. I couldn’t live without being around animals. I speak to the geckos on my walls and birds in my garden. Yes I am that crazy lady.
Two months ago I was in a terrible accident that has changed my foundational feelings around animals. Its messing me up. I was mauled by a dog. A staffy unfortunately, because I love staffies. Im lucky it was just several bad bites throughout my left arm and across my hands. I was walking my dog on lead and the staffy came bursting out of its garden, eyes full of hate and burning, and went straight to attacking us. Naturally my dog defended us and I tried to diffuse the fight. I was thrown to the floor trying to grab my dog and the next thing I knew I had felt the staffy’s teeth smash into my elbow and chomp across the back of my arm. The owner, or the owner’s missus, more like, stood and watched the whole thing. There were lots of people watching the whole thing, there were two busy bus stops in front of where it happened. So about twenty people just stood around me in shock as I was screaming. I remember looking at some of them and begging them for help, I think someone even yelled, what can we do?! I think it might add to my shame about the situation. Because I kept trying to help, to protect the dogs and myself, to stop what was happening, and I failed. No one else did, Just me. I don’t want to feel like that because I know I was brave and calm as I could and handled the situation as best I could. I didn’t yell at the owner. When it was finally diffused, I even told her to call a vet for her dog while I was sitting in the dirt, bites marks and blood scattering my hoodie and injuries all over me. The woman just looked down at me and walked away, wordless. Im sure she was shocked but that really hit me. It made me feel unimportant, worthless. I called an ambulance for me myself because everyone around was so shocked and I was so calm they didn’t even realise how badly my injuries were.
More than that, I got way more hurt than the other two dogs. Me, the trained animal carer and zoologist. Now I can’t walk past a barking dog without flinching. Yesterday I cried over two snarling cockapoos. Me. Cockaruddypoos. My mum has a cockapoo. His name is Alfie. Lots of cockapoos are called Alfie ironically. I bet they were too...Or I bet their names were something like fluffy and chocolate. And fluffy and chocolate made me cry. How small and pathetic I felt. I felt fear and anxiety smother me, my throat closed up and my head went like stone. When that happens since the attack all I want in the whole world is to be within my own home’s walls, away from the world, away from everyone and everything who could potentially mess me up. I just think, screw you all, Im out.
The strangest part is it's not like I'm actually afraid of dogs, I look at them the same way as I’ve always done but what is going on inside me is something very different. My heart sees them the same but my body and instincts do otherwise.
The attack was almost 3 months ago now, I’ve nearly got full mobility in my arm back and the last of the bruising is fading (yep, its taken that long can you believe) so I still try to remind myself there is no deadline and it was not long ago, trauma takes a long time to heal. More patience than we can probably imagine. It's just how this trauma is so directly related to things that made me feel like me, made me feel connected and safe in this world (nature and wildlife) and now I whip around in terror at the sound of chihuahua feet coming at me from behind.