From my ‘Crossing the headlines’ column in Dog World (9th April 2014) where I review the documentary, ‘Dangerous Dogs’.

MY FIRST experience of a ‘dangerous dog’ was back in the spring of 1992. I’d accompanied my mum to Tottenham Cemetery to tidy up my grandmother’s grave after the winter. Her grave lay in front of a low retaining wall and, while we knelt down, clearing away the dead flowers from our previous visit, there came a low, rumbling sound from above. We looked up and, standing on a wall, fixing us with its yellow eyes, was a mustard-coloured dog with a head the size and shape of a breezeblock – a pitbull.

Images of dogs exactly fitting the one that now snarled above us had been splashed across the papers and TV for months.

Mum wanted to run but I whispered for her to ‘stay put and don’t look at it’. So, we crouched there, hearts hammering, frozen like statues, but still its threatening growls grew louder. Slowly I glanced up and noticed that we weren’t the focus of its attention after all; I followed its steely gaze to the flapping cellophane that wrapped our fresh flowers. Tentatively I moved my hand bringing it down firmly upon the noisy wrapping. Suddenly the dog’s owner appeared, yelled some expletives at it and followed these with some kicks and punches before slipping an old piece of rope around the unfortunate creature’s neck and dragging him away. Continue reading

Advertisements