Stories
Savaged in the garden
One minute Charlotte was playing, the next blood was everywhere...
Giggles and barks echoed around the garden as my four-year-old daughter Charlotte ran up the path chased by Tia, our neighbour’s Japanese Akita dog.
She chucked the ball to her friend Emily, four, before they collapsed to the ground giggling.
Tia jumped on top, slobbering over them. ‘Isn’t he beautiful,’ my neighbour Claire sighed, as if reading my thoughts. ‘He’s such a lovely friend for Emily. We’ve had him for two years now, and they’re so close.’
‘He’s such a softie,’ I agreed.
Leaning back in my chair, I soaked up the sun. We were having a lovely get-together in Claire’s back garden – even her mum Dorothy, 63, had popped along. We’d been neighbours for a year. With no fence between our gardens, the girls were always playing together.
Charlotte appeared by my side. ‘Can I have a drink?’ she asked.
Claire answered for me. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And I’ll make a cuppa for your mum, too.’
We both wandered towards the house when, suddenly, I heard a growling noise that made me think of tigers as they stalk their pray, before they go for the kill. And a sound like the ball being burst.
As I turned around, I heard something else – something I knew instantly. An ear-piercing scream.
Charlotte! Everything moved in slow motion, every detail crystal clear. Tia, the cuddly family pet, had turned into a snarling monster. And he was attacking my daughter. I ran towards her as fast as I could. Too slow. Razor-sharp teeth had sank into my little girl’s face.
No! Dorothy got there before me, yanking Tia away. Claire shooed him into the kitchen as I sank to my knees beside Charlotte.‘Mummy!’ she screamed. Her hand was clamped to her face, but blood gushed through her fingers.
With sickening clarity I realised what the odd noises I’d heard had been. What I’d thought was the ball going pop had been Charlotte’s face!
There were two huge teeth marks above her blue, terrified eyes. And her cheek had deep, raised scratches where his teeth had scored her skin… it was like she’d been seared by a hot poker.
Charlotte’s blood-curdling screams started to sound like they were coming from underwater…
Hold it together for her, I ordered myself. ‘You’re going to be okay, sweetie,’ I cried. ‘Stay calm!’
I barely noticed the ambulance arriving, or the wailing siren as we raced to Sheffield Children’s Hospital. But when the doctor spoke to me I forced myself to take in his words. Charlotte’s’s dad was away working so, although we’d split up, I’d be calling him to keep him up to date.
‘We’re sending her in for plastic surgery,’ said the doctor. ‘We’ll clean her up and sew her face as best we can.’
As best they could?! Was my beautiful daughter going to be scarred? I didn’t show my fears to Charlotte, though. She was being so brave.
‘Mummy, I don’t like that doggy any more,’ she sniffled.
That was the only bad thing she had to say, bless her.
She didn’t complain about the pain, the injections, anything.
I reached out to stroke her silky hair… but all I could feel were clumps of matted blood. Suddenly, I was so angry. Why had Tia gone berserk? Would the dog still be there when we got home?
No, I was sure the police would take him away. I called them while Charlotte was operated on.
For two hours, I waited for her to come out of theatre. I was terrified my bubbly little girl, who’d always loved dogs, would now cower from them, that she’d be scarred for life – physically and emotionally. Finally, a surgeon appeared. ‘How is she?’ I asked.
‘It went really well,’ he replied. ‘You can see her now.’
The poor love had a massive plaster covering half her face, but she still smiled when she saw me.
‘I don’t want to play with that doggy again, Mummy,’ she whispered.
‘You won’t, darling,’ I soothed.
But there was bad news about that. Police explained that because the attack had happened in the owner’s garden, it wasn’t covered by the Dangerous Dogs Act. So Tia hadn’t even been taken away.
Two days later, my brave girl was ready to come home. I sat her down. ‘Tia will still be living beside us,’ I said, gently. Charlotte gave a whimper, and I cuddled her closely. ‘I promise you’ll be safe. I’ll never let him hurt you again.’
The big plaster on her face crinkled as she frowned. But then she nodded. ‘I’ll be all right,’ she insisted. Back home, she was quiet at first but, after a few days, she was back to her bubbly self.
Claire came round to apologise, she was devastated. Neither of us could explain why Tia had flipped, but I don’t blame my neighbour. ‘I’ll keep him indoors more,’ she promised. Just as well. Charlotte was brave, but how would she feel when confronted with her attacker? Or any dog for that matter.
Two weeks later, we were waiting at the bus stop to go into town when… Oh heck! There was a woman walking a Staffie. Charlotte cowered behind me as they approached. I could feel her trembling as she peered around my hip. But then – the trembling stopped. ‘That’s a nice doggy,’ she announced, and ignored it after that. I couldn’t believe her bravery.
We still have no fence in the garden, so I only let Charlotte play out there when I’m with her. The one time she saw Tia since, she ran straight back inside.
Four months on from the attack, watching her leaping around with Buster, her Auntie Kay’s Staffie, you’d hardly know she’d been attacked. It’s only when the wind blows her hair that the faint red lines remind us of that terrible day…
Katie Levin, 25, Sheffield, South Yorkshire
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