Recently, my little peke-a-poo dog was attacked by a rottweiler, and she was injured quite severely. She spent four days in the veterinary hospital, and several doctors said it was quite a miracle that she survived.
It was a rough time for the whole family. The attack occurred while I was out walking her, accompanied by my eight-year-old son and one-year-old granddaughter. The attacker was huge, probably around 150 pounds, and seeing him pick up my little eleven pound pup in his enormous mouth and shake her was horrifying. Even worse was the fear that the dog might attack one of the children. I was shook up for days.
Thankfully, Sophie is making a full recovery. She is pretty much back to normal (although sporting a bad “haircut” and a stem to stern set of stitches on her belly.) She seems to have forgiven all and is her usual spunky self.
As for me, I’m still on the mend. For the first few days after the attack, I cried easily and couldn’t sleep well. I was surprised at myself for how concerned I felt about the dog. I’ve never been much of an “animal person” – I enjoy my pets, but I realize they are not people. It was interesting to discover that I really did consider the little mutt to be part of our family, and the thought of losing her was really upsetting. But what really upset me was the violence of the incident, and the fear that I began to feel about going out into the world. That surprised me, too.
I like to think of myself as someone who looks for the best in people and situations. Like everyone else, I’ve had some rough times, but I’ve always been able to see the good in situations. This event made me feel, initially, that the world was a barbaric place. Even my neighborhood wasn’t safe; rather, it was populated by dangerous creatures. That was a scary feeling.
It didn’t help that within days of the attack, serious accidents seemed to be occurring left and right (a woman was killed in a car accident just blocks from my home) and everyone I knew seemed to be stricken with illnesses. Now I realize that I was just more attuned to this because of my state of mind, but at the time it seemed that the whole world was treacherous. Signs of The Fall were all I could see.
Then Sophie came home and the clouds started to lift. The owner of the dog offered to pay our (considerable) expenses. We had a stretch of sunny days. Things are pretty much back to “normal.”
I’m still pondering the scary view of the world that seemed so authentic last week, and I’m anxious to put it into perspective. It is indeed a fallen world, and there are lots of things to fear. Sometimes the outcomes aren’t as good as what I experienced this time, and often the good guy finishes last. But God has a plan for that. He knew the world was a pretty messed up place after that incident with Adam and Eve. He knew He had to come down here Himself and set things right. And nothing – not a menacing animal, or a tragic accident, or a world full of humans making bad choices – can cancel out the good that came from that.