Out of nowhere, in the blink of a freaking eye, the dog slinked his way under a fence where there was absolutely no room to slink and was on top of Chip, attacking him.

This is probably a story for a book, but since I’m telling it here, I’m leading with the outcome: Chip is fine, not even a mark outside of whatever damage was leveled on his psyche. He’s peacefully lying on the floor beside me as I type these words, resting up for whatever adventure comes next today.

Physically, his dad also emerged from the incident physically unscathed. But mentally and emotionally, well…

Before going any further, I hold no ill will toward the dog or its owners. The look on their faces, resembling someone who just found out they are a ghost, said it all.

Our long evening walk started off like many others. Across the river and down into the park, following the flow of the river, walking along its edge, indulging in serenity one step at a time.

Approaching the dog park, I saw a dog playfully running back and forth along the fenceline on one side. I decided to let the Chipster in on the other side as it’s common for him to meet up with dogs on the other side of the fence and engage in playful racing back and forth and up and down the fence line.

Not the case on this day. As soon as I closed the gate and unleashed him, he ran over to the dog who immediately ran up to him. They both started barking back and forth and within a few seconds, I noticed the barking sounding different, more aggressive than the playful herding barks I’m used to hearing from Chip. I don’t speak dog, so maybe Chip was insulting the other dog, but I kinda doubt it.

Still halfway across the field, I started to quicken my pace and noticed the dog had somehow pushed his head under the fence and was sticking out on our side. A millisecond later, he’d squeezed the rest of his body through and, just like that, the usual friendly barking and fence running had turned into a dog fight.

When I made it to the fence I started yelling, “hey!, hey!, hey!, stopppp!!!” You know, some sort of frantic words for the frantic situation.

Seeing Chip defending himself while letting out whimpering, piercing whines was a far cry from the past few trips to the park, with him running along the fence with other dogs, jumping the fire hydrant with acrobatic agility, and running through the long pipe tunnel like he was navigating never-before-explored caves across the globe.

Just the previous Thursday, an irony that only dawned on me later that night, Chip ran himself to a slobbering, panting mess when he met a dog four years his junior, Otto, at the park. Chip and Otto met in the same side of the dog park where the attack would take place exactly a week later, running and chasing each other from one side to another. Just when it looked like Chip had run himself ragged, he found another wind (he’s good at that) and ran and raced and played and licked and loved life some more. We just smiled, trying to take in the absolute bliss, chatting up Otto’s parents before getting Chip home just in time for him to promptly collapse onto the cool floor and fall fast asleep.

In seven short days, we’d gone from a blissful to brutal scene, and while there’s another B word that’s worth mentioning here, that one that I’ve made a mantra and yet needed an entire weekend to equate with this situation, I’ll get to that in a minute.

I knew from working in a shelter that the last thing you do is get in the middle of a dog fight, and yet in that moment of not-so-wise decision making I attempted to wrestle my way between the two. Luckily I wasn’t bit and was able to pull Chip away.

Later, searching for information on Google for what to do in these situations, I discovered the following:

-Hurriedly pick your animal up and place them on a higher level like on a trash can. (Sure thing, we’re in the middle of a dog park with literally nothing but grass around us, and plus, Chip is 80 pounds).

-Place your animal on the other side of a fence. (Great call, tossing an 80-pound dog over a six-foot tall fence. Mmm okay).

-Yell to try to deter the animal. (Check. Didn’t work.)

-Use a spray bottle with water on the aggressive dog to cause it to back away. (Ahhh yes, should have thought to bring my spray bottle on a walk to the park like I’ve done never times in the past).

In the frenzied blur of probably 12 seconds that felt like four hours before the owners had pulled their dog off and secured him (I can only assume the guy scaled the fence because it would have taken a full minute to sprint around the other side to where the door was), Chip’s short life with me flashed before my eyes, a true nightmare developing in real time as I felt so hopeless.

Aside from the two minor lows of him running away, our few months together have been some high, high, highs, for both of us. Lots of walks, plenty of back yard lounging, jumping through the air to grab pieces of popcorn, burying bully sticks in the yard and unburying them once they stink just right, bath time, nap time, trips to PetSmart. Seeing all of those moments flash past me, I guess it’s safe to say I’ve already gotten pretty attached to this dude.

The man who got over to secure the dog just held his dog and looked at me, the two large whites of his eyes expanded to the size of ice cream scoops. A moment later, a young woman was beside him, very apologetic and saying this had never happened before. Over and over, asking me if we were okay and over and over me stating I didn’t know as I checked Chip up and down. There was blood on his harness and blood on him, but no visible marks. I looked at the other dog, his mouth bleeding, and told them their dog was definitely bleeding.

After telling me their dog was up to date on his shots, they were gone, and I was left sitting on the ground with Chip, continuing to check him and wipe off spots of blood.

On the short walk home, a group of three teens stopped us to pet and play with Chip. Then a gentleman pulled up in his truck and rolled down the window, yelling out, ”What a beautiful dog!” Then, almost home, two more kids in the distance, one of them calling out, “Is that Chip?” before running up to greet us.

Just like that, in another blink of another freaking eye, there was already gratitude and joy for this moment, things were already beginning to balance out in our path of possibilities.

Ahhhhh, that other B word.

For a guy who’s preached balance and put a Yin Yang on the cover of his book, I’m not entirely sure why it took me a full weekend to realize the yin and yang between these wonderful moments at this park with Chip early on in our journey and this unfortunate day.  

And it was only after that, as I was deciding to write this blog about balance, that a bigger “aha” moment hit.

Chapter 11 of Lucy’s Way: A Dog, A Drunk, and The Tao is titled “Balancing Act.” I opened the chapter with the following quote:

“Accept the good and the bad as well, the kind and the cruel in nature. The rain storm and the sunny day both have their beauty and virtue. The sage remains calm in the center.”

–Simple Taoism: A Guide to Living in Balance, p. 77, C. Alexander and Annellen Simpkins

I’d love to say I “remained calm in the center” but really think the incident in the park was a textbook definition of one of those “easier said than done” situations. I also realize that seeking balance is a lifelong undertaking. And I also realize, through continued lived experience, that remaining calm in the center is achieved through acceptance of the current situation, however good or bad that situation may be.

Here’s another quote that I think I can relate to much more easily:

“Better learn balance. Balance is key.”

–Mr. Myagi in The Karate Kid

In the “Balancing Act” chapter, I also wrote about Lucy tearing her ACL. This moment happened, as described in the book, in the same place, nearly the same exact spot, where Chip was attacked. So many good moments happened between those two difficult events. Again, all about balance.

Speaking of that B word, I’ve spent June balancing the Lucy’s Way equation, taking the month off from events. I’ll get back on the road in July and August with five events currently set during that time frame. More on that next time.

In the first draft of “Balancing Act” in Lucy’s Way, I braided the two surgeries together in the narrative, bouncing back and forth between the two events. For example, one section would be the day before the ACL surgery in 2012 and the next section would be the day before the cancerous tumor surgery in 2016. This back and forth created an urgency and chaos, conveying the emotional roller coaster and head-spinning anxiety that I lived in those situations. In the end, it was decided it could be too confusing for the casual reader and the chapter flow was reworked.

Still, in the end, the message was the same, that a dog can teach us balance in its daily routine and actions.

A few days ago, I took Chip back to that same dog park. There was another dog on the other side of the fence. I leerily let Chip in and asked the owner about her dog. Feeling safe, I let Chip off his leash, encouraging him to run with the other dog. I needed to run along him to get him running with the other dog, and after one lap, he would no longer run with the dog but would instead only run if I was between him and the fence.

Obviously, he’s still a little spooked.

But in time, we’ll get there, back to the balancing act that is the ebb and flow of life.

It’s just like this time of year, as we celebrate the Summer Solstice. In this unbalanced season where day far outweighs night, the solstice is a component of the overall balance of the year and the seasons.

Happy Summer all!