sounded pissed off as well. Trust me, you can tell these things when you are being pursued by a creature whose sole raison d'être is to supplement its normal diet with human rump steak.
Even a massive burst of adrenaline wears off pretty quickly. I was tiring and I knew it. Just when I felt that it was all over, that, frankly, I couldn't be bothered anymore, a sort of miracle happened. One moment I was running over grass and the next a dark mass appeared at my feet. Before I had time to even think about it, I jumped and cleared an in-ground spa by about two yards. Slasher wasn't quite so lucky, though. I could hear a huge splash as he dived straight in. Must have been quite a surprise. One moment he's got the scent of blood in his nostrils and the next he's doing the breaststroke. Mind you, the size and sheer bulk of the hound might have drained the pool, for all I knew.
For a while, though, I had clear space behind me. I summoned the last of my fading strength and made for the fence at the rear of the yard. This fence was much higher. Perhaps the security-conscious owners had decided that if they could only afford decent perimeter fencing on one side, they'd put it at the back. This was one serious fence.
I threw myself at it and scrambled up the chain-link. Even with my momentum I was still a ways from the top and I had to scrabble with my feet for purchase. Then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a very wet, seriously pissed-off dog making a final lunge for its quarry. I guess it thought that it was game over. There I was with my arse wriggling at a tempting and achievable height. I could feel it launching itself like an Exocet missile.
It was then that I felt a strong hand grip my wrist and pull me forcefully up the fence. I had no time to register what wasgoing on before a sharp pain shot through my left foot. Slasher had finally made contact. Bear in mind that this was one heavy dog. Remember also that I'm hanging from a chain-link fence with this dog attached to me like a plumb line. Looking up, I could see Kiffo's face, red with strain as he tried to lift me to safety. I knew what it was like to be the rope in the middle of a tug-of-war. For a while, I thought Slasher would win. The veins were standing out in Kiffo's neck like sausages. The next moment my shoe came loose and the dog plummeted to the ground with a satisfying thud. The weight gone from my leg, I soared over the top of the fence, adding high-jump expertise to my newfound sprinting talent.
Kiffo and I lay in a heap on the other side of the fence. Slasher, enraged beyond endurance, threw himself at the links. I took a good look into his eyes. Believe me, he was not in a charitable mood. This was not a dog that was inclined to forgive and forget. But he was also a powerless dog. The fence was too high.
Kiffo and I scrambled to our feet and took off into the darkness. We had no idea if there was a hole somewhere that Slasher could slink through, or if the owners of the property, woken by the hellish racket that the dog was now making, would not appear with sawn-off shotguns. Anyway, we needed to be as far away from there as possible.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my house. It was only then that I realized how badly my foot was hurting. Kiffo and I didn't talk much. We were both too exhausted to spend any time with words. He just loped off into the darkness and I letmyself in. Luckily, the Fridge was asleep. I had left the house via my bedroom window at about nine-thirty that evening and she had obviously found no reason to disturb what she must have thought was her sleeping daughter.
I bathed my foot in antiseptic and put some Band-Aids on it. I had read somewhere that a dog bite carried all sorts of nasty germs, that you should get a rabies shot, but under the circumstances, I decided to trust to luck. My foot wasn't as badly cut as I had thought at first. It would probably swell and bruise, but apart from one rather nasty puncture mark, I
Even a massive burst of adrenaline wears off pretty quickly. I was tiring and I knew it. Just when I felt that it was all over, that, frankly, I couldn't be bothered anymore, a sort of miracle happened. One moment I was running over grass and the next a dark mass appeared at my feet. Before I had time to even think about it, I jumped and cleared an in-ground spa by about two yards. Slasher wasn't quite so lucky, though. I could hear a huge splash as he dived straight in. Must have been quite a surprise. One moment he's got the scent of blood in his nostrils and the next he's doing the breaststroke. Mind you, the size and sheer bulk of the hound might have drained the pool, for all I knew.
For a while, though, I had clear space behind me. I summoned the last of my fading strength and made for the fence at the rear of the yard. This fence was much higher. Perhaps the security-conscious owners had decided that if they could only afford decent perimeter fencing on one side, they'd put it at the back. This was one serious fence.
I threw myself at it and scrambled up the chain-link. Even with my momentum I was still a ways from the top and I had to scrabble with my feet for purchase. Then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a very wet, seriously pissed-off dog making a final lunge for its quarry. I guess it thought that it was game over. There I was with my arse wriggling at a tempting and achievable height. I could feel it launching itself like an Exocet missile.
It was then that I felt a strong hand grip my wrist and pull me forcefully up the fence. I had no time to register what wasgoing on before a sharp pain shot through my left foot. Slasher had finally made contact. Bear in mind that this was one heavy dog. Remember also that I'm hanging from a chain-link fence with this dog attached to me like a plumb line. Looking up, I could see Kiffo's face, red with strain as he tried to lift me to safety. I knew what it was like to be the rope in the middle of a tug-of-war. For a while, I thought Slasher would win. The veins were standing out in Kiffo's neck like sausages. The next moment my shoe came loose and the dog plummeted to the ground with a satisfying thud. The weight gone from my leg, I soared over the top of the fence, adding high-jump expertise to my newfound sprinting talent.
Kiffo and I lay in a heap on the other side of the fence. Slasher, enraged beyond endurance, threw himself at the links. I took a good look into his eyes. Believe me, he was not in a charitable mood. This was not a dog that was inclined to forgive and forget. But he was also a powerless dog. The fence was too high.
Kiffo and I scrambled to our feet and took off into the darkness. We had no idea if there was a hole somewhere that Slasher could slink through, or if the owners of the property, woken by the hellish racket that the dog was now making, would not appear with sawn-off shotguns. Anyway, we needed to be as far away from there as possible.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my house. It was only then that I realized how badly my foot was hurting. Kiffo and I didn't talk much. We were both too exhausted to spend any time with words. He just loped off into the darkness and I letmyself in. Luckily, the Fridge was asleep. I had left the house via my bedroom window at about nine-thirty that evening and she had obviously found no reason to disturb what she must have thought was her sleeping daughter.
I bathed my foot in antiseptic and put some Band-Aids on it. I had read somewhere that a dog bite carried all sorts of nasty germs, that you should get a rabies shot, but under the circumstances, I decided to trust to luck. My foot wasn't as badly cut as I had thought at first. It would probably swell and bruise, but apart from one rather nasty puncture mark, I
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