A Day at the Lake:  Preparations for Violence

A beautiful day at the lake.  As we look for a good spot, early enough to grab one, there it is: right near the good polliwog finding spot we found the day before.

Getting out of the truck and unpacking all the required things that come with days like this, it seems a little odd.  The year before, the largest forest fire in California history had ravaged this area.   We are at Lake Almanor.  At this spot there are mostly dead and blackened trees.  Heartbreaking, but as you look around you see that not all is lost.  There is still green here.  It’s bittersweet, to stand at the nexus of hope and hopelessness.  But we are here to enjoy the water, not reminisce about things lost.

Getting our beach chairs situated, putting up a shade umbrella, and filling our tubes with air I see the older couple only a few yards away.  They were here when we arrived.  They had a couple of dogs with them, one smaller and older, and the other much larger and younger.  Not much to see, just people out doing what I’m doing.  Perhaps they feel it too.  The despair of blackness, mixed with the feeling of a fresh start.

My daughters, 8, and 10, stay with me. My wife takes our 5 year old son to go find polliwogs.  As they are walking toward that spot, the younger dog comes charging and barking at them.  I’m too far away to do anything.  I see it get to that part of own heart and soul as they are walking.  My wife charges back and yells at the dog to get away.  This is no damsel in distress.  Another reminder of one of the many reasons I married her.  The older man yells at his own dog, and quickly comes over to get him. This was now the second time this dog has charged us.  The first time it came after our dog and tried to attack her.  When my son and wife come back, it happens again.  The owner repeats the process, yelling at his dog and collecting him.  They are farther away now.  Quiet again, it finally seems safe.

I am uneasy.  That dog was far too aggressive.  I look around to find something, and there it is.  A stick about 3 feet long and around 2 inches in diameter.  Big enough.  I strip away the bark to give myself a good grip on the thing.  I hit it on the ground fairly hard a few times; it doesn’t break.  This will do.  I know that if that happens again, and we aren’t so lucky, I will be taking this stick in my hands and I will beat that animal.

I don’t want to.  I’m a dog person, I love them.  But if I have to choose between brutal violence and standing by watching as my children or wife are mauled, well, this is a simple decision.  I play it over in my mind:  The animal comes back and attacks, and I bring the stick down as hard as I can on its skull.  A sickening thud, and perhaps a dead dog.  At least a very injured dog who has no fight left in him.  The owner comes over livid about what I’ve done, and I still have that stick for what may happen next.

I take these thoughts as they come, I’m not proud of them.  The Jungian shadow exposes itself, and I must accept that this is a part of me.  In animal encounters one must embrace the animal within.  I would much rather embrace the higher mind.  Find a clever way to avoid violence. But we don’t always get to make that decision.  I am not a violent person and I do not want to hurt anyone, yet I’ve already beaten them senseless in my mind.  That sin has already been committed.

The dog stays away.  We don’t have any more issues with it.  But the owner probably saw me preparing that stick earlier, now placed in the bed of my truck.  An arm reach away.  He knew exactly what it was for, he has loved ones too.  He comes over.  A momentary sense of tension.  What will happen?  You can never tell until it does.

“Hi, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about that.  My dog is only 7 months old and he hasn’t been very socialized yet.  Which is why we are out here.”

“It’s no problem.  I understand.  We got a dog in the middle of the pandemic and she was also not very socialized.  It can be tough.” I empathized.

“Yeah, that’s basically what we did.  I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, I get it, not a problem.  What’s your name?” I asked.

“Dan.”

“Hi Dan I’m Sean.  I appreciate the apology.  I hope you have a great day.”

“Thanks, you too!” With that, he left.

And that was that.  No violence necessary.  A nice guy with a dog that just hasn’t been around a lot of people.  I’m grateful.  I didn’t want to turn into an animal today.  I didn’t want to hurt or kill a dog.  And I definitely didn’t want to hurt that nice man.

But I absolutely would have, and I was prepared to.  I had made my peace with the decision already.  If that had happened, it would have been a matter of completing what I had already begun.

I am not ashamed at embracing that darkness, and uniting with my inner animal to be vicious.  I’m not proud of it either.  It’s one of the many flavors of life.  The balance between war and peace has always been tenuous. 

Now, enough of this.  It’s time to find some polliwogs.