calling dr. freud

he and i were picnicking, in a seemingly managed bit of woodland. it was a fairly open glade, at the bottom of a small slope. it felt discreetly hidden away from the world, with tall, older-growth trees above and around the edge of the space. we had two dogs (mutts, of course) with us, a good-sized male and a smaller female. they were gamboling and rolling around as pups will do when out on a fresh grassy hill. a clear sunny sky, and the day seemed to stretch endless before us. we were laughing and savoring lunch.

i saw a movement and capped my eyes with my hand to look up towards the top of the incline. the image moved closer and i could make out a man in a suit, one much like that buttoned-up tweedy style a 19th-century brit might wear on a highlands hike. when he spotted ours, he let his dog off the lead. as it drew near, its determined gait made me instinctively question its intent. its body was strong and its head the size of a barrel. our two stood up, together, their tails went from happy-wagging to stock-still and bodies alert. the other rounded the crest and came pounding down, picking up speed with the grade.

as these things always seem, in an instant the intruder had steamrolled into the little female and battered her ribcage with its keg of a head. she was airborne and howling in pain. she dropped to the ground in a wailing heap, unable to stand. i heard snarling and gnashing teeth...

i woke unable to breathe, a cry for help caught in my throat. tears burned my face.

ack.