I'm concerned about the ending. Does it sound too cheesy? I'm also worried that there might be some confusing spots/ technical errors. I would appreciate it if someone can help me with these!
Why I'm Afraid of Dogs
A Personal Narrative
On a picnic table covered in etched names and brown paint, I sat and developed a method for dismembering a green maple leaf. I tore it apart along its veins; first the large ones extending to the verdant points and then the innumerable little ones until the leaf was a wilted hand of confetti. I breathed—the air felt liberating—and tossed the handful whimsically into the air; the green snow of July. Green snow that cloaked the ground and clung to tree branches in mossy coats. I was isolated, but not lonely. My environment, the trees and birds, kept me company in a way the desks and walls at school could not.
Suddenly, the tranquility was disturbed by a visitor. His approach stirred the surroundings like delicate sediments swirling in a stream. I sensed him drawing near and became a fixture of the park. A man and his dog. They were the intruders; the trees and I were rooted to the spot. My eyes fixed on the dog to avoid a glance from the man. I didn’t want to meet his eyes and feel compelled to smile. An encounter was inevitable—my attention seemed to invite the unleashed dog to approach my bench. I pulled my legs up to my chest to avoid its prying nose.
“Sir, your dog is supposed to be on a leash.” My intent was to be forceful, but it came out a shaky request.
The man smirked and called for his dog with so little enthusiasm that the thing hardly lifted its nose. He had heard this before; the park’s leash laws were loosely enforced. He strolled off without a conciliatory word. The black setter lingered and then, sensing the gravity of its master, was pulled back to orbit the man’s heels.
What their passing had disturbed soon settled. I forgot the dog and went back to enjoying the local silence.The bench was out of reach of the clamor of cars on cement—my regular earache. However, it was not long until my solitude was stolen yet again by the incongruous jangle of a dog collar.
The black setter trotted down the path, unleashed. This time I couldn’t even see the owner. Still curled on the bench, I remembered being told that dogs could smell fear. I tried to use my eyes to repel the dog with beams of hatred. It seemed to get the idea and kept its distance. The man suddenly rounded the corner and caught me glaring at his dog.
“I can’t catch him,” he drawled. Something about his lazy tone made me doubt he even tried.
I couldn’t take much more of this man’s irresponsibility. I left the bench, which was just off the path. The footpath curved along one side of a meadow and then disappeared on either side into the trees. As the duo continued along the path, I cut across the grass to the opposite side of the field. I was confident I was doing the right thing by removing myself from the situation.
Barking—barking right behind me, at my back. I turned to see the yelping dog bounding towards me. By the time I had given a frightened yelp of my own, the owner’s command had stopped the dog. But it still crouched a few yards away, watching me with hungry and confused eyes. The dog’s instinct to attack battled with its desire to obey its master. The latter won.
I should have been angry, but I was too startled to say anything. Now I was in retreat. My confidence was bashed; I walked as fast as I could into the forest and away from that monster and his dog. If I had yelled at the man, if I had shouted and hollered until I saw the leash secure, I might have saved myself from what happened next.
I felt the pounding paws in the ground before I heard the barking. Through the trees, flying straight as an arrow came a galloping black streak. The thunder of paws was accompanied by wild, jubilant barking—the hunt, the kill! the hunt, the kill!
I never knew what it meant for words to ‘escape’ your lips until a strident “No!” leapt into the air unbidden. It didn’t sound that loud over the rush of blood in my ears, but seemed to wake the dog from a trance. It stopped only a few feet away this time. The look it gave me before it trotted back to its master for the last time could only be described as unapologetic.
As soon as the dog was gone, I doubled over. My knees shook like a horse’s after a race. I felt like I had run up a flight of stairs real fast. I was not out of breath but my heart was beating way too loud. And I could hear someone banging on a door with my ear plastered to the other side. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Except it was the exact opposite. My heart was fluttery feeling and I breathed much harder than I needed to. I felt like a bellows, because I just sucked in all the air and whooshed it right back out, over and over again.
It was loud, my breathing. I tried to control myself and waited for the quiet to return. I wanted the land to erase that black mark of humanity from my memory, like nature reclaiming an abandoned building. But memories don’t decay. I carry a memory that I sometimes think is gone, but is really buried beneath the sediment of day-to-day life. The silence is tainted and makes me lonely. It isn’t just all the green and me; that man is out there.
