My children, cornered by dogs

Years ago, and far away, we lived Up North. We had three children, one of whom was still an infant. TDW Mark I had decided that we needed pets, and so she brought home two Labrador puppies.

With the wisdom that comes with hindsight, with two working parents, two primary school aged children, and an infant, two Labrador puppies might not have seemed to be a particularly good idea. It seems that, with the distractions present daily in such a household, the dogs do not properly learn the chain of command. In particular, the part of the chain of command that goes, “The little people are NOT to be snarled at, nipped at, or cornered. Under ANY circumstances!”

One afternoon, I was working in the yard, the two oldest kids were playing outside, and somehow the dogs got out. I learned this, when I heard snarling from the dogs, and yelling from my kids.

As an aside, nowadays, I put on my pistol, knives, and spare magazines, before I put on my shoes. I live in a very quiet, nice little town, but, well, between Da City, and the tales I have related here (and am about to relate here), I have grown to loathe when I do not have the tools I need RIGHT FUCKING NOW!

I reached this epiphany, as I rounded the corner of the house and observed the two dogs backing my children into a corner, snarling. Each dog was, at this point, around 60 pounds, and outweighed my children.

I pushed my way between my kids and the dogs, and pushed the kids behind me, as I faced down the dogs. I waved my arms, snarled, my own self, and began to harangue the dogs, slowly advancing on them.

“Motherfuckers! You DARE to threaten my kids! I will cut your miserable throats, I’ll crush you like insects, I will break your necks, and toss your cadavers to the buzzards! Don’t you FUCKING DARE snarl at my children! I will field dress your sorry asses, and toss the gut pile into the fucking road! Try me, motherfuckers! TRY ME, you sackless pieces of shit! YOU-DO-NOT-DARE-TO-THREATEN-MY-CHILDREN! I will OWN your sorry asses, and put such a hurt on you that dogs, everywhere, will whimper and cross the road, lest they step upon my children’s shadows! I fucking DARE you, to cross me!”

Well, all the excitement likely had penetrated the house, and TDW Mark I came a’running, big kitchen knife in hand, to sweep up the children, and arm me. Once they noted two adults, and, likely, from the yelling and screaming I was emitting, figured that Bad Things were pending, they ran off at a lope.

You may wonder what my plan was? Well, besides the fact that I decided promptly that I was NOT about to watch dogs attack my children I really had no plan at all. It had occurred to me that I was right handed, and, in extremis, should I jam my left forearm to the back of the lead dog’s mouth, and wrap my right arm around his neck, if I could push away with my left arm as hard as I could, and pull back as hard as I could with my right, I just might snap the dog’s neck.

But, after reflecting, 15 rounds of XTP hollow point in 9 mm might be just a bit more effective.

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Why do ER staff frisk patients? This is why!

TINS©. Once I had left Da City’s EMS, I was an Emergency Department nurse in , surprisingly, Da City. Now, this was in the depths of the then current round of the nursing shortage, and so (a) they put me in charge (BIG mistake!), and (b) we had rent a nurses working with us. You might imagine, folks who have spent their careers working in the hospital may not be entirely as cynical as I am, and so might have a different level of urgency regarding, say, frisking a patient, than I do. Remember that thought.

So, one soul, a frequent flyer at our department, was brought in by the local fire department. This municipality was entirely within the border of Da City, but had stand alone police and fire services. These firefighters also provided EMS for the community. This particular wintry evening, they brought us an intoxicated fellow, who wanted to misbehave. Prior to my arrival, the evening staff had placed this gentleman in a vest type restraint, and settled him into a corner with a couple of blankets, and an admonition to take a nap.

So, once things had pretty much cleared out, I figured that a walk through, and placing eyes on my charges might be useful, and so I set out.

As I cleared the curtains surrounding our friend (mistake number one), I noted that he was fiddling with his vest. Closer inspection revealed that he had secured a knife (frisk fail, mistake number two!), and appeared to be attempting to cut his way free, presumably thereafter to make his escape. Acting prior to thinking this all the way thorough (mistake number three!), I grasped the hand with the knife, and extended his arm over the top of the bed, bending it, and securing it, and the knife within, with both hands.

That gave him the opportunity to consider the advantages he might enjoy, by popping me in my face with his off hand. Having considered, he tried to act, and so there we were, me holding onto the knife hand with both of mine, bobbing and weaving to avoid punches directed, drunkenly, my way by our guest, and calling for assistance.

One of the agency nurses walked over to see what the fuss was about. She stood there, motionless, for a long moment, until I suggested, “Ya know, if you could get some security in here, right stat like, that would be wonderful!”

I shit you not: she pivoted in place, and bellowed, “Security Stat To The ER!”

Sheesh! I amended my suggestion. “That was very nice. Now, if you were to open that door over there, and go out in the hallway, where our friends from security actually are, and tried it all over again, it might be just a little more helpful!”

She did earn bonus points for “Listening to and following directions”. Shortly, our friends from security piled into the room, relieved Mr. GottaGo of his knife, replaced his restraint, and frisked him, thoroughly this time. I frisked him, myself, because, well, reasons. I found no surprises. This time.