"If you bite me, I will kill you."

While i was running on the trails on Saturday, I was about 2 hours and 45 mins in, and came up on a creek crossing known as "the dam".  I was in a zone running pretty fast listening to music.  At the dam was a couple, with 2 dogs, one of which was a Chow mix.  Ever since I've been a kid, I've known Chows to not be the friendliest and be very temperamental.  


A couple days prior I received the story below in an email about a dog attack in Colorado, so I had that pop into my mind right away.  


There are tons of friendly dogs out there, and I'm pretty good at noticing which ones just want to play or run with me, and I usually say something like "Hi puppy!!" in a very friendly and playful tone... but as this dog approached me with a non-friendly and menacing look on his face I got a little tense.  First thing out of my mouth was a very loud, commanding: 

"If you bite me, I will kill you."

Probably not the friendliest thing to pronounce to a dog in front of his owners, but they were sitting on the ledge and had no way of stopping their dog from biting at my leg, arm or whatever.  I kept running so I'm not sure what they thought of my attitude, and as I had music in my ears, i have no idea what they may have said in return.


After reading this story below... can you blame me?

"There are an understandable number of inquiries requesting more information, and Buzz suggests a general comment for those interested.

Just off the Peak to Peak Highway, as you turn toward Rainbow Lakes, about a quarter mile there's a forest road that peels off to the left, south, down toward Como Creek, deadheading at a gate beyond which there is no vehicle traffic. When my wife and I hiked past this gate at 7:30 on Sunday morning, there were two vehicles parked there. I was exploring the site of one of the mining camps for the Switzerland Trail Railroad.

As my wife and I returned to the gate heading back to my truck, we saw activity suggesting folks were breaking camp, reloading their vehicles. A small black lab came to greet us, tail wagging, ruff-ruff-ruffing, stopping about five yards away. I was bending down to talk quietly to him until the owners appeared, and at that moment the pit bull came roaring over the slight ridge, directly at me, full speed. I assumed it would stop and do some ruff-ruff, but knew quickly that was not to be. At a distance of about four feet from me, he leaped at my throat, knocking me back and down. 
Since losing my dog to a big cat last year, I've made it a practice to carry a knife with me when I venture alone into the forests. I doubt I'd be very effective against a big cat, but it's always been reassuring to my wife that at least I'd put up a fight.

If you carry a weapon you'd better be prepared to use it, and I was able to get it out of its sheath on my way down. Yes, it was a bloody battle, me laying on the ground, flailing wildly with the knife at the neck and head of the dog as it did its best to tear my femoral artery from my groin. A deep stab produced enough yelp from him that, along with the force of my blow, released his bite and drove him back. He'd already tried two times to get chunks of me, one at the neck, one at the rib cage, and my thrashing about successfully fended those off. After being driven from my groin, he came back two more times, once for my genitals, as if I weren't already full enough of adrenalin. Battled back there with knife slashes and kicking, he moved around to my left, where he grabbed me at the lower leg. Jaws wrapped around a large section of my calf, he was pulling me, jerking me, uphill, I was reaching to stab again when the owner showed up to pull him off. That was a battle between the two of them. The dog was bleeding profusely from the stab wound to the left shoulder. I was fired up enough I wanted to continue the battle, to finish the beast off.

I had no question whatsoever that this animal had one purpose, and one purpose only--to kill this intruder. Had I not had the good fortune to strike him deeply enough with the knife to get him to yelp, he was moments away from accomplishing that kill with the severing of my femoral artery. A gun would have been worthless at best under these conditions, and with my wife standing next to me I'd have hesitated to shoot for fear of hitting her. That moment's hesitation would have been fatal.
The owner was mortified and deeply apologetic. "He's never done anything like this before," though it was noteworthy that the dog was wearing a shock collar. "The batteries died a while ago." The folks were extremely supportive, helped bandage me up, freely exchanged information, and drove us back to my truck. I went immediately to the Emergency Room at Boulder Community Hospital, Broadway.
Under legal requirement to do so, ER personnel notified Boulder County Animal Control, who came within 30 minutes, interviewed me and did a thorough photo documentation. That afternoon as we returned home the telephone rang, the owner of the dog calling to check on my condition and to let me know he'd managed to get the dog to the vet in time to get him stapled back together.
He graciously offered to cover all my medical copays, continued his apologies, and in general could not have been more cordial or accepted responsibility in more openly.

Shortly after that the Animal Control Officer called to inform me that a citation had been issued under the provisions of the state, rather than the county, law, and that the dog was in quarantine though the owners had documentation of all vaccinations.

The arraignment for these charges is in late July. State law allows for but does not require euthanasia, so it is up to a judge's final decision. I am determined to prevent this dog from ever injuring another human being. I've retained the services of good counsel. 

Please forgive grammatical errors or gaps in the story. I'm at work right now and just hammered this out to give timely followup."