How it feels to be
S"I felt its teeth sink into my skin like daggers... I thought it would tear my arm off
CREAMING in agony as the dog’s teeth sank deep into my arm, I was flung across the pavement like a rag doll and slammed to the ground. I can’t describe the pain — its teeth felt like daggers, sharp and piercing, refusing to let go. The XL Bully shredded my arm and fractured my knee, leaving me hospitalised for 11 days.
So my heart went out to Esther Martin, the 68-year-old grandmother mauled to death by two XL Bully dogs in England recently.
That poor woman lost her life in the most horrific way imaginable and it brought back all the trauma of what happened to me. At 77, I don’t know if I’ll ever regain full use of my arm or walk without having to use a wheelchair, but knowing how ferocious those dogs can be, I feel lucky to be alive.
It was a normal Wednesday morning, December 20, just before 9.30am. I’d called into my daughter’s house, just across the street from my own . I was walking on the lefthand side of the road to the bus stop where I planned to catch the bus into Stirling for a spot of Christmas shopping. I hadn’t got more than three gates away from my daughter’s house when I saw a boy, of around 13 or 14, approaching with an XL Bully dog, a breed I instantly recognised from news reports. It was a big one — if it had stood up on its hind legs it would have been taller than me.
He had it on a slack lead so I stepped on to the edge of the kerb to let them pass on the inside. It is quite a narrow path — around 4ft — like you’d find on any residential estate.
They had just gone past me when I felt what I thought was the dog’s nose against the left-hand side of my body, sniffing at my arm. Next thing I knew, it grabbed my arm in its teeth and flung me across the pavement, slamming me to the ground up against a garden wall. It was like a horrible nightmare.
I managed to grab on to the wall, while shouting: ‘Help me, help me.’ The boy with the lead was doing everything he could to pull the dog back but it was too powerful for him.
It was pulling and pulling at my left arm with its teeth, sinking them deeper into the flesh. It was excruciating. I thought my arm was going to be ripped right off. I couldn’t hold on to the wall any longer and the dog dragged me across the pavement and pinned me down on the ground so I was now lying half on the road. It slammed me down so forcefully that I fractured my knee, though I barely remember that part. I was so numb from the shock that I wasn’t thinking straight. I was still screaming like mad, ‘My arm, it’s got my arm.’
BY this stage there must have been blood everywhere, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. I think I thought that if I left it with my arm, it couldn’t get to my throat. I knew if it got my throat, that would be it.
I don’t remember what the dog looked like, or what the boy was doing at this point. It’s all a blur because of the pain. I felt like it wasn’t happening to me — like I wasn’t really there. But the memory of its teeth in my arm is very real.
One of the most sinister things was that, all the while it was attacking me, the dog didn’t make a sound. It didn’t bark or snarl — it just kept going for me. It was out of control and it never let up.
After what seemed like for ever — probably no more than a minute or two — a young man came running out from a house across the road. He had heard my screams and seen me through his front window.
He started beating the dog back with a skateboard. Looking back, he was my hero. Without him, I don’t think I’d be here to tell my story.
Then a man driving past in a car saw me lying on the road and stopped to help. Another woman came running down the street and started using a lighter on the dog’s nose.
I was never unconscious but I have blanked out what happened next. There were people all around me, hitting the dog and grabbing at me, trying to pull me to safety. Eventually, they managed to get it off me. I remember lying on the ground, blood everywhere. There was an ambulance and a police car, and they had to cut my jacket off to get to my arm.
I was taken to hospital, followed by my daughter, my brother and my granddaughter, who had all rushed to the scene when they heard what was happening. They were traumatised; they had to see me lying there, not knowing if I would make it.
I was in hospital for 11 days. I spent Christmas there, and my family all visited me in their pyjamas on Christmas morning.
Fragments of what had happened came back to me, little by little. The doctors were amazing and made sure I wasn’t in any pain — but the reality of what I’d been through really hit me then. I had two operations and a skin graft on my arm. Tendons had been severed and it was broken in a couple of places. I have to go into hospital twice a week to get the dressings changed.
I still can’t move the fingers on my left hand and I don’t know if I’ll ever get the use of them back.
I’ve still got a big splint on my fractured knee. My whole leg is covered in cuts. I have to use a wheelchair, and I’m waiting to hear if I need another operation.
Since the attack — eight weeks ago today — things have been very difficult. It’s taken a lot away from me; not just my ability to get around, but my confidence, too. I live alone and I used to be very independent. I was out walking every day and did everything in the house on my own.
Now, I need someone to come with me when I leave the house. I feel anxious whenever I see a dog, especially bigger ones. That’s quite a thing to come to terms with, because I love dogs; I love all animals. I had Alsatians most of my life until I was 60, and I used to walk my granddaughter’s little Shih Tzu down the same road where I was attacked.
But when it comes to these XL Bully dogs, something needs to be done. People need to know how vicious they can be if they’re not properly trained and treated.
The dog that attacked me was put down. I found out later it had been brought from England a few weeks