A Tasty Looking Snack
Orlando, FL
A friendly beach dog. This photo was taken in Juno Beach, FL.
As I steadily made it into Northern Florida, I began to adjust to life on a bicycle. My methods for survival had begun to feel more like second nature and I didn’t need to spend as much time thinking each day about my gameplan. It was admittedly quite a simple way to live life. All I had to worry about was finding a place to sleep each night, where and when to refill on supplies, and how far would I make it before my bike inevitably broke down again. There was, however, a common and terrifying theme that I had begun to see develop…
It first happened to me around Orlando. I had just ridden into a quiet neighborhood that seemed to still be asleep. Although some of the homes were a bit rough around the edges, there weren’t any signs that alerted me to the possibility that I was going to be fighting for my life in just a few moments. The sky was overcast and there was no one in sight. The sun had only begun to rise a few minutes before; I typically would start riding at first light. The world was still dreaming, or so I thought. The sound was muffled at first. Steadily it grew louder as the distance between us began to fleet. What was once a gentle thud quickly turned into a roaring gallop. I glanced over my shoulder expecting to see something of a similar size to a horse. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with a set of jaws that could have easily torn me to pieces. A loose pit bull was a few strides behind me, about to close the gap entirely. I tried to speed up but my bike weighed so much that the attempt was futile. Even in a low gear, it takes a significant amount of time to get the thing moving with any amount of haste. My flight instinct quickly shifted to fight. I turned my torso to face the toothy beast, and did what anyone would do as they faced down millions of years worth of predatory evolution: I shrieked like an infant.
The squeal alone was not enough to ward off the dog. I instinctively combined this “battle cry” and a sweeping, flailing motion of my right leg, nearest the set of jaws. It seemed to work. The hungry canine suddenly stopped and motioned itself back toward the direction where the chase had begun. Either I successfully scared it off, or I had survived long enough to reach the edge of its territory. The reason didn’t matter much to me. All I cared about was the fact that I was now safe.
Not two hundred yards later, I was chased down again by a different dog. Once more, I did what I could to ward off the hound while sitting plumply on a metal post with wheels. Again, I was unscathed. By the time the third dog had come bursting from the bushes in a hot pursuit, it dawned on me that this wasn’t going to be an isolated incident. In fact, it was something that I had to deal with for the next 1,000 miles. Every time I stumbled into a new neighborhood, my awareness would go on high alert. I developed almost a 6th sense. I could look at a house from a block away and tell you if there was going to be a predator lurking within the property lines. A strategy I developed after many encounters, was to begin an all-out sprint about 100 yards before reaching the house. That way, I would have enough speed and momentum to carry me past before any dog had a chance to catch up. It was exhausting but effective. If a dog had ever made it under my radar, which was about 50% of the time, I would resort to the scream and flail technique.
There was a reason for so many loose dogs. Unfortunately, A common trend in this region of the United States is poverty. For whatever reason, dogs that belong to these families are often left outside, unchained, and hardly paid any attention to. They weren’t chasing me because they were hungry. They were just bored and protective of their property. Additionally, canines have evolved with a predatory instinct known as a prey drive. That is when something is clearly running from them, it triggers a signal in their brain that tells them that the object or animal is prey. Thus, the reflex associated with that trigger is to chase. For the same reason that your pup runs after a tennis ball or squirrel, they also run after a weary cyclist.
I love dogs. I’m a dog owner myself! I am a believer that there are no bad dogs. Instead, there are irresponsible owners. None of the dogs that I encountered, regardless of breed, were doing anything wrong. Had they been properly trained and cared for, I would not have had anything to worry about. Unfortunately, my encounters have alerted me to the fact that this is not always the case. If you are a cyclist and have been experiencing a similar trend, fear not! There are some non-harmful and effective ways to deal with a chasing dog. A quick Google search and maybe a few bucks will likely solve all of your problems. Here is a hint: The best method is not to speed up and run away like I had been doing!
