I didn't go looking for trouble. It came skittering in the door, pausing to piddle on the carpet, looking for me. That was after the phone call. The older son was heading home from the South Island.
"And by the way, I'm bringing a puppy. English bull terrier cross."
"Whaa!?"
"It'll be sweet,
Mum."
"Dear God, no!"
"Really. I'll find a home for him in two days."
"Arrghhh!"
He was all white with one brown ear and, according to the son's heart-rending story, rescued from certain death when a farm litter was being destroyed.
After two days, during which I tried to fob him off on total strangers, he did find a home: ours. It was all over when the partner started going all Zen: "If a dog comes into your life, embrace it."
I worried about the bad rap of the breed, as we had a 4-year-old. The puppy ate shoes, a sofa and made a good start on the veranda but, happily, loved people. Child and dog became lifelong mates.
Just to be sure, we fenced the section like Fort Knox. I rushed him off to be neutered. The vet, clearly thinking I was insane, told me to come back when there was something to neuter. I took him to obedience classes. By the end of it, spirit broken, I was heeling and rolling over nicely. As for the puppy, every command still translated, in the dim recesses of his canine brain, as "seek food". He wouldn't sit properly. We discovered why - dodgy knees - $1800 later.
Still concerned that he become a good citizen, we took out a second mortgage and called in a personal dog trainer, twice, to sort out who exactly was taking whom for a walk. And to eliminate residual confusion between "come" and "surely there's a bone out here somewhere".
We exercised him on the lead and, at designated times, off the lead at the beach, as we are still, at the time of writing, allowed to do on the North Shore. We pick up his droppings.
A dear friend who wasn't the sort to take "Dear God, no!" for an answer gave us a kitten. Arrghhh. Would the dog see a new family member or an hors d'oeuvre? He quickly became a devoted foster mother.
He could conceivably lick someone to death or do in another knee while helping a burglar out of the house with our possessions, but he's a good dog.
Not that we're complacent. You can never say never, so we've always kept him away from children when out.
We've done our best. And, this being New Zealand, we're about to be punished for it. The minute we heard about the recent terrible cluster of dog attacks, I moved swiftly from neurotically over-cautious to hopelessly paranoid. It's like driving past a car accident. You drive a little more slowly, become a little less blase. Most of the other local dog owners seem to be doing the same, working even harder at being responsible.
So it's unnerving suddenly to be singled out as public enemy number one. This must be what smokers feel like. We've been glared at and told off while doing nothing wrong.
Defeated, we've bought a retractable lead and never let him off. Our walks now include muted, anxious exchanges with other hunted-looking dog owners fearing the worst from knee-jerk new legislation.
Hoping for some perspective, I rang our dog's favourite vet, animal behaviourist Elsa Flint. She believes there has been an overreaction to a tragic event.
Attacks such as the ones we've seen recently are rare, she says. Keeping dogs on leads, many muzzled as well, everywhere at all times, is not fair. "Dogs are part of society and there has to be give and take. Provision has to be made for exercising. Set times when dogs are allowed, so everyone knows and can avoid those places if they want."
Certain breeds really will suffer, she says, if there is nowhere for them to run off the lead. I hope the city council is listening.
I can't see a new generation of isolated and unsocialised dogs as safer.
Clearly, something has to be done to make sure children are safe in parks. But it's always dispiriting to experience the traditional New Zealand response to complex and alarming problems: a sustained baying for blood and/or instant law change. Much as it pains me to agree with Richard Prebble, new laws shouldn't be rushed out of panic.
It pays to remember that the mauling of the child in the park could not have happened had existing laws and bylaws been enforced.
Children can and do still drown in perfectly fenced pools. Dogs still attack children on private property. You can ban dangerous breeds but in one of the recent attacks, a child was bitten by a jack russell.
Should some breeds be banned? No amount of nagging would make me own a pit bull or one of those Argentinian dogos, which apparently view any unfamiliar moving object on their territory as a wild boar. But banning does nothing about the sort of owners who, given enough time, could turn a chihuahua into Cujo.
Most owners I've talked to would welcome stricter licensing laws. I'd happily pay to submit my dog - and myself! - to an annual temperament test if it meant he could continue to run free occasionally on the beach.
A world in which there is nowhere to throw a ball or frisbee for your dog would be a sadder, and not necessarily safer, place, for animals, owners and children. A world in which I wouldn't want to welcome a dog into my home or heart ever again.
Herald feature: When dogs attack
How you can help
A trust fund has been opened for 7-year-old dog attack victim Carolina Anderson. You can send a cheque to: Carolina Anderson Trust Account, BNZ, PO Box 46-294, Herne Bay, or donate over the internet to BNZ account number 020 248 000 3002-000.
The Herald is backing an appeal to raise money for a $150,000 operating-room microscope for Middlemore's plastic surgery unit. The microscope is essential in minute plastic surgery work such as reattaching nerves. Middlemore has two, used on Carolina Anderson and the victims of the Pipiroa sword attack, but they need replacing. Donations can be sent to: The Microsurgery Appeal, Editorial Department, New Zealand Herald, PO Box 706, Auckland.
