Kevin Fagan was walking his golden retriever mix Leo when they were attacked by another dog. There were 48,600 emergency room visits in 2022 for dog bites in California, up 32% from 2020.
A few months ago, I took my little golden retriever mix Leo for a walk on a placid day like every other on the grassy trail near my house in Contra Costa County. I let him off leash so he could sniff weeds at will. We’d been on that trail hundreds of times before, so I thought nothing of it when I spotted a big, muscular terrier mix running our direction from 200 feet away.
Then suddenly he was upon us.
The dog slammed into Leo full force, rolling, snarling, biting. Leo’s only about 20 pounds, the terrier mix around 40 pounds. Nowhere near a fair fight.
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“Stop! Damn it! Stop!” I screamed, chasing both dogs as they zig-zagged, the attacker grabbing Leo in his jaws, Leo wriggling loose before getting chomped again. Finally, I caught Leo and held him up high on my shoulder. The unfazed attacker leaped and dug his teeth into my arm over and over, and a couple of times he sucked Leo’s leg into his mouth before I yanked him free.
A man with another large dog strode into view, and our tormenter pivoted and charged them. I dialed 911 and said we were being attacked. The dispatcher said they’d put me through to Contra Costa County Animal Services. Really? While I’m being attacked? Animal Services said they’d send someone right over.
Didn’t happen.
The guy with the other big dog dashed away, and four people who happened by surrounded our four-legged attacker. I put a tighter grip on Leo, who was too stunned to move, and ran to my house. I put him on the couch, then dashed back to the trail.
The four good Samaritans had the attacking dog on my leash, which I’d dropped. Weirdly enough, he was now sitting calmly. His dog tag’s address was just a couple of blocks away, so we walked him over.
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First thing I saw was the huge fence hole the dog had obviously escaped through. The owner said he’d pay my medical bills.
“My dog only goes after other dogs,” he said sheepishly. “He likes people.”
So, this dog had attacked other dogs?
Back home, Leo’s flank was chewed bloody. I was so caught up taking him to a veterinarian emergency room I failed to realize my arm had been gnawed bloody, too. Off I went to the people emergency room.
Animal Services? Never came, never bounced me back to the cops, never called while I was handling the crisis. Two days later, an Animal Services officer showed up at my house unannounced while I was away and left a note. A week later another came. This time my wife was home and called me, so I returned and finally filed a report.
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The officer was plenty nice. Told me the attacking dog had done this two times before, and now his owner would have to surrender him to the county, fight that order or have him declared a “Potentially Dangerous Animal” (PDA for short) and for three years keep him kenneled at home and muzzled if leaving the property.
Did anyone follow up to see if Leo and I were medically OK? No. To let me know if the dog got taken away? No. To see if the owner made amends to me? No.
There will likely be a lot more like me and Leo in the future.
According to the state Department of Health Care Access and Information, emergency room visits for dog bites in California shot up to 48,600 in 2022, the most recent year available — up 32% since just 2020 and 70% since 2005.
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Meanwhile, news outlets from Chico to Los Angeles have reported staffing shortages in animal services for years. San Francisco, population 808,000, has 13 field officers — and they get 12,000 calls a year for service. Contra Costa, population 1.2 million, has 10. That’s not enough to reliably respond in real-time to biting emergencies like mine, let alone follow up to ensure everything gets squared away.
My advice to you? If you’re being severely attacked and call 911, make damn sure you are clear it’s dangerous and you need a cop, not an animal control officer — something I apparently didn’t convey seriously enough. And if you’re expecting the overworked, understaffed officers to keep in close touch with you, forget it. Get their contacts and call them for updates.
As for getting help with your injuries — that’s on you, too.
After signing an insurance waiver saying I could never file an action against him, the terrier mix’s owner cut me a check for my $600 in medical bills. Attorney friends said I should sue for thousands of dollars — and I might have if it was more serious — but I loathe the litigious mindset that sees every incident as a cash opportunity.
The most useful information I got from Animal Services was this: Carry a small air horn when you walk your pooch. It’s better than pepper spray or a bat because dogs are quick to dodge weapons, but a horn terrifies them and makes them skedaddle.
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Also: Don’t let your dog off leash unless you’re in an approved area, like a dog park. If I’d had Leo leashed, I could have scooped him into my arms sooner. It pains me to not let him run free because he is the friendliest pooch you’d ever meet. But I’d rather see him alive and un-mauled than merely able to sniff a few more weeds on his own.
Reach Kevin Fagan: kfagan@sfchronicle.com
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