Oh no! A large white Labrador blocked my way. It was last Sunday morning and I was jogging along the muddy path between Wolfson College and the University Parks. The dog owner seemed to be about to throw a ball into the adjoining field, but then realised that there was no question of his great hound ever getting over the fence. I was forced to squeeze past; he then yelled at me saying I might at least thank him for trying to get his dog out of the way. I hadn't realised the whole charade with the ball had allegedly been for my benefit, but I did manage to croak out "Thanks" and put the experience behind me as yet one more 'dog incident' in a long and varied running career. At least I hadn't been bitten that time.
I hadn't always been so lucky. Let's go back to the beginning, many decades before....
There was a sudden pain at the back of my calf. I was about 11, and was sprinting across the school playground ahead of a gang of small boys. The dog had singled me out, perhaps because I was in the lead. Luckily it wasn't serious and Matron soon sorted me out, telling me to run more slowly next time. I didn't dare argue with her assessment of the situation, but I remember thinking what a stupid dog it must have been to overtake all the others for the pleasure of sinking its fangs into me. The experience didn't put me off running though.
The next occasion was when I was working in Papua New Guinea, running amongst the palm oil trees in the company's plantation. I don't now recall the precise circumstances, but somehow I got bitten by some local's dog. My immediate concern was: "My gosh, I'm going to get rabies!" Here's the strange thing, though. Wherever you get bitten (I mean whichever country, not what part of the anatomy) that country and yours are the only two countries in the world where there's no rabies. The doctor (an Australian) confirmed this strange fact as he administered some antibiotic, opining something on the lines of: "You'll be right, mate - only PNG and good old Aussie are rabies free. Good thing you weren't bitten in Indonesia next door!"
A few years later I was jogging on a path on Lantau Island in Hong Kong when I failed to spot, lying across the path, the tail of a large dog. Whoops! Another bite... and an agonising delay before I reached civilisation (an hour or more's walk, an hour on the ferry, and finally a taxi to the Queen Mary Hospital). When I finally saw the doctor he said I'd been very lucky as of course Hong Kong and the UK were the only rabies free countries in the world. "Good thing you weren't bitten in China!" he jested. Unfortunately this tale had a twist in the tail, to coin a phrase. To be on the safe side, he suggested I place the dog under observation, and if it didn't die within 7 days I should be OK too. As well as being somewhat unreassuring, this advice proved rather hard to put into practice, and meant a whole day off work. Eventually I had to enlist the marine police to manhandle the beast into a police launch and to placate the dogowner (my Cantonese is not strong). As you can imagine, I didn't sleep well that week.
I'll end not with a bite (nor with a bang) but with a word of caution for those running a little more locally. Watch out for these people who either have a pack of their own or who exercise other folk's dogs, apparently an increasing phenomenon. I was running past the Vicky Arms one day when a brace of large dogs suddenly came prancing towards me. Naturally there was no sign of anybody in charge. There is a wall dividing the pub garden from the path, and at least three more dogs appeared from behind it to join the fun, i.e. leaping up and trying to knock me over. Then, just when I thought I was about to expire on the banks of the Cherwell, the 'owner' finally appeared. Often in this situation he (or she) tries to maintain that his 'pets' are just a little playful today, or that they got slightly carried away by seeing some idiot running. Clearly neither was the case here, but even though the owner laid about him with a large stick it was a while before I managed to get away. The presence of the stick convinced me that this was a professional dog walker, and an unfriendly one too!
I suppose one must keep things in perspective: these are a few incidents in a long career as a jogger, so keep vigilant and keep running!
A possible future blog may consider the cultural awareness of dogs...do keep tuned into the blog...
