Zombie Dogs from Essex

The dogs aren’t really from Essex, but Simon is, and it was him that suggested today’s subject.

It’s not much of a secret, among those who know me, that I don’t like dogs all that much. I’d never hurt a dog (unless it was hurting me first), and certainly the terror of anything with a wet nose and a waggy tail, that I had when I was a kid, has left me. But given the choice of being in a room with a dog, and not being in a room with a dog, I’d take the dog-free environment any day.

Phobias are funny things…I know that my fear of dogs goes back to a dog-attack incident when I was little; I know that broadly speaking it’s irrational, and sitting here now in a dog-free environment I can resolve that I’m not going to let dogs worry me any more. But the next doggy that comes along, I just know will send me scurrying for cover.

Somehow, we’ve yet again come to a Hospital Radio fundraising story: We used to provide public address facilities to local events as a fundraiser, and on one occasion we were covering an open day at the local oil refinery. One of the attractions was due to be a display by the Police dog team, and before they started, Jenny was interviewing one of the handlers (or maybe handling one of the interviewers, knowing her ;-) ). Meanwhile, I was in the lorry that we used as a control point, ostensibly monitoring what was going on, but in reality, listening to something else (probably Test Match Special). The Policeman being interviewed decided to show off his dog’s talents, pointed into the back of the truck, and said “Search!”. Paul is greeted by six tonnes* of slavering German Shepherd bounding up the steps desperate for blood (hence making the zombie link…phew!).

I’m informed by a reliable witness (well, Jenny, anyway) that I made a creditable attempt to depart, arse first, through an eighteen-inch square window that was never designed to open anyway.

Steps stat: 2684

*May be a slight exaggeration

Comments are closed.