#dog attack
Photo
Finished Brightheart design sheet.
This was difficult to draw. I spent a long time thinking her design and I tried to search the best way to portray her scars. It was hard to find accurate information in cats, so if anyone who reads this would like to offer some critique or advice I’d love to read it.
More information:
o Warning: this point contains details about her wounds and mental state, skip this point if you are 14 years old and younger or don’t feel okay reading this stuff, as it is graphic. Proceed with caution. Her right side scars were done while trying to climb a tree to get away from the dogs. Unfortunately though Swifpaw’s sacrifice gave Brightpaw time to react and try to escape, the dogs grabbed her hips from the left side. The rest of the scars were done because she curled on the floor leaving her left side exposed. That way she got heavy bite wounds on her face and torso. He face got the worse part. Both her left eye and ear is gone and some of her upper face was ripped off, thus her left eye socket is assimetrical. While on treatment her face got swollen and was in complete mental shock (Acute stress disorder if she was diagnosed in human standards). After taking her bandages off and a lot of work from Cinderpelt to stabilize her and avoid it from developing into a worse condition, she seemed to get to a better mental state... until she saw her reflection. Since then, both that incident and hearing Bluestar’s assigned name made her relapse and suffer mentally (Post-traumatic stress dissorder). Later after treatment hair grew back, blending a bit her scars, but not fully. She still has nightmares and can’t bear the thought of dogs, but has learnt to accept her scars and self image and to stop blaming herself for Swiftpaw’s death. This was thanks to early intervention from Cinderpelt and Cloudtail’s emotional support. Firestar recognized her recovery and the pain that her assigned name brought her, and thus changed her name to Brightheart to honor her strength and kindness, as well as her strong will to live and never give up. I don’t have much experience in medical fields and while I did ressearch, I could have got it wrong. I’d appreciate input in that case so I can learn and change it. I take these topics seriously.
o As she got old her ginger patches started to become smaller as white hair grew on them. They also became slightly diluted and desaturated. Small spots from old age appeared on her face scars.
o Just because I’m not sure if it’s very telling, on her elder drawing she’s sleeping on Cloudtail’s back leg and tail. She likes to sleep like that because Cloudtail has a very soft and fluffy tail and gives her comfort.
#Warrior Cats#waca#bigi's warrior designs#bigiswarriorcatsdesigns#Thunderclan#Brightkit#Brightpaw#Brightheart#the prophecies begin#the new prophecy#power of three#Omen of the Stars#a vision of shadows#the broken code#firestar's quest#a thief in thunderclan#wounds#scars#dog attack#face injury
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jhear me out ....
can we get more fics of ghost being in luv w riley and soap being absolutely terrified , on the verge of panic attack whenever the dog barks or growls or sumthin
like, istg hc that bro has gotten traumatized by some dogs , in the military or out
id elaborate more if someone said yes but i doubt it
extra
John couldn't, absolutely wouldn't stand near the dog.
Why the team got it? No. Fucking. Idea.
He thinks it was Ghost's idea, actually. He might seem like a cat person, but in the inside -- he's a very big dog person. John was the opposite.
He was terrified of dogs. Hearing them bark, or growl, sparked something inside of him, that wouldn't let go. Sunk its claws into him, bathing him with terror, only leaving him with the sweet thing called hope, that he would be let go. He understood that some dogs were the sweetest creatures on earth, yeah, but some were absolute fucking monsters.
So, when John sees Ghost standing so happily with the dog, he understands-- he understands why Price would let him have the dog, despite knowing that Soap would probably start crying if the dog looked at him.
And, fuck, he understands, he really does-- the way Ghost is so relaxed, his usually dark, brown doe eyes sparkled with mirth, brighter than usual, listening to Price. His hand never leaving his side to pet the dog next to him. John couldn't help the jealousy that stirred within him. But, overall, he understands, why Price let this happen.
For Ghost.
For Simon.
Not John.
id write more but im a lazy lazy person
jus wna say: note the way soap only calls riley "the dog" , or uses it/its pronouns (cmon soap respect the poor dog)
it's like i always have these ideas, then another pops up, and another one -- so i just wanted to write it down (: -- i was also thinking, because i love hurting soap so much -- that towards the end, during a mission, riley gets lost, and soap had like warmed up to him by now (much too ghosts delight) to offer finding the poor dog. price, also enthralled by soap starting to like the dog, allows him to go.
no one expected what happened. except maybe you guys but that's besides the point.
as soap goes along, he updates everyone through comms n stuff. eventually, he finds a trail of blood and brown and black fur, standing out in the snow, (theyre in russia babyyy) and he goes to follow a trail that leads to an abandoned shack. he goes inside.
moral of the story? riley pounces on him and eats him. (tries too, ig 🤷) ghost and price come to save him and soap will never trust dogs again, (yippee!!!)
ty for coming to my ted talk
(sorry this was longer than i thought and im only making it longer ;w;)
also this was inspired by that song called in hidden in the sand by tally hall if you listen to it youll probs understand
#ghostsoap#soapghost#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#riley#THE DOG#not ghost#soap is traumatized#cynophobia#dog attack#ptsd
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Really feeling everything everywhere all at once right now. 😵💫
Marceline was attacked by a staffy tonight that got loose from its yard while the owner was pulling in their car. Such a stupid thing that is actually so common here with people who have no separation between their yard and their driveway. And it got out two times, came back for more.
The first time I kicked it away and we shook it off as a loose annoying dog but the second time minutes later it was heading straight for Marceline and managed to bite her. Thank god it’s a graze and not a puncture. But I was wrestling this dog and screaming, totally losing my shit, and Marceline ran away across the road. Thankfully the cars all stopped and someone stood by her until I could come and get her. The dog wasn't aggressive toward me so once I got my arms around its neck, it basically gave up. That's just fucking luck. The dog that bit Luca two years ago was much more dangerous.
Luca, of course, immediately shook it off. His attitude seems to be that dog attacks are part of life. Marceline screamed when I picked her up, I assume she is quite sore, but I checked her all over once we got home and I can only find the one graze. I cleaned it and gave her some meloxicam I have on hand. I don't think I need to take her to the emergency vet and stress her out more, she is walking around and still looks mostly bright, just quite sad. She was already feeling stressed about Topaz and now this is just something else. Fuck, I hate it when things pile on all at the same time.
I'm so, so glad that it wasn't worse. That dog could have easily killed Marceline if it had actually got its teeth in. As with the time Luca was attacked, because it wasn't as bad as it could have been I was able to talk to the owner calmly and tell them outright the problem and solution. Luca's bite was from a dog that should be muzzled 100% of its time in public. Marceline's bite was from a dog that shouldn't be able to get out when they open the gate for their car. Very simple solutions! If things had been worse, I would have been hysterical and probably just would have screamed at them.
I'm lucky but feeling distinctly that luck won't last forever. I think I need to research legal defensive tools.
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Guys…someone dumped a kitten by my house and dogs where attacking it. I saved it but uhh I’m hurt and have to go see if I need a rabies shot.
The kitten doesn’t have any open wounds but I’m pretty sure it’s leg is broken and it won’t stop crying. Idk if I’m sick from worry for the baby or if I’m getting an infection.
It was so scary when I wrenched the cat from the dogs mouth one started jumping one me trying to rip it from my arms. I might just be shaking from adrenaline.
Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine if the bacteria doesn’t catch
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The Werewolf Pt 1: The Capture
[A/N: I have more planned for this whumpee! I will make a masterlist and pin it when I finish the next part. It's hard to believe, but things will actually get worse for the poor guy, hehe.]
CWs: werewolf whumpee, nudity (nonsexual), blood, manhandling, injury, dehumanisation, it as pronouns, dog attack, death threat, knives
-------------------------------------
The rooster crowed. On a misty, frosty morning, Oscar woke with blood in his mouth.
Panting into the grass, he waited for the pains of his transformation to fade. His muscles and tendons should relax into their old form soon. But the pain didn’t leave, not entirely. There was a sharp, clenching pain deep in his right thigh that only got worse as the adrenaline wore off.
Despite the bone-deep aches, the man managed to carefully lift his head and look behind him. He hissed: the unmistakable shaft of an arrow, gone clean through the meat of his thigh. Shit. At least the bleeding seemed to have stilled for now.
The wolf must have been desperate and hunted something it shouldn’t have. And now here Oscar lay: wounded, naked, and still goddamned hungry. Whatever he had caught must have been small. Stupid animal couldn’t even hunt properly.
He looked around, but couldn’t place the clearing he was in. He wasn’t looking forward to stumbling around in the forest searching for his supplies, but he needed something to dress the wound with before he removed the shaft. Thank small mercies he healed faster than most humans.
With trembling arms, he pushed himself onto his elbows. Without his fur, he was shivering in the cold, which made his thigh flare up with a pulling pain. Oscar grunted. He wondered if he could even bring himself to move like this.
Then, his ears picked up something distant, but not distant enough: barking dogs and yelling voices. An animal-like panic gripped his heart. Wound be damned, he would have to try!
The werewolf scrambled to his feet, only to slip in the wet grass and fall down on the hard ground with a painful crash. The noise got closer.
For once, the man wished the animal inside him had stuck around longer. It was stupid and dangerous, but at least it was better at getting away. On his hands and knees, Oscar made a valiant but vain attempt. All he managed to do, was release more of the scent of his fear into the air.
The dogs breached the clearing, barking triumphantly.
Oscar curled up and covered his neck with his hands. It was a horrid way to go, a distant part of him thought. But without his teeth and claws, the dogs would make work of him, if the arrows wouldn’t.
The barking got so loud. He heard their paws rush through the snow, and closed his eyes-
A sharp ear-piercing whistle blew, and the paws skipped to a stop. A harsh voice called.
“Heel! Back boys, heel!”
Oscar could feel the frustration from the animals, so close to their trembling prey. He kept his eyes closed in fear, but their panting sounded like they were big. No doubt spit was dripping from their jaws.
A sharp prick grazed his heel, and he yelped.
“Bexter! Bad! Heel!”
The dog gave up on his half-hearted attempt and retreated.
Another set of footsteps approached, running.
“Why’d you call them back?”
“Some poor sod got attacked, I think. They must have smelled the wolf on him. Sir! You alright?”
Was he talking to him? Was he “sir”? That had been a while. Especially while naked in a field. It was so shocking he struggled to find his words. The second voice answered for him.
“Does he look alright to you? Wait...”
He seemed to see something. When he spoke again, it was low and angry in a muted way.
“That’s my arrow.”
Dead silence settled across the field.
Oscar dared to open his eyes. Thankfully the way he was curled up concealed the worst indignities, but it didn’t hide the arrow sticking from his thigh. Nor the blood that covered his face and arms.
The first hunter finally caught on that that blood wasn’t his.
His eyes turned cold as ice.
“You got it in its hind leg, didn’t you.” he asked the other hunter, a broad man with heavy brows. The man nodded.
Any hope of pretending to be a victim faded. Werewolves were rare, but not unheard of. They tended to get rarer when they were caught and dealt with.
Covering himself with one bloodied hand, Oscar tried to raise the other in a placating manner.
“Sirs, I-I don’t know what I did, b-but I swear-”
He didn’t get to finish before the first hunter clicked his teeth and sharply called his dogs to action.
“Fetch!”
Scrabbling was no use, and Oscar cried as the dog descended on him. Like the well-trained animals they were, they could fetch prey without destroying it. But their sharp teeth dug into his arms and the meat of his shoulders with an iron grip. Oscar knew that even with his fast healing, it would take days before he was recovered.
If he had days to live, anyway.
Dumped before the feet of the hunters, the broad one held a knife against his throat, and he froze.
“We ought to kill it, for what it did.”
His colleague chastised: “The duke will judge that. It isn’t our place. Just truss it up.”
Oscar was too scared to even swallow, as his arms were tied behind his back. He tried to make his trembling lips cooperate long enough to speak. If he wouldn’t be killed yet, there was time to bargain.
“I-I am sorry for whatever I killed, I promise I can work to repay it, please-” The handle of the knife knocked hard against his temple, and spots danced in his vision.
A rough rope was tied around his neck, and he was pulled to his unstable feet. Fire spread from his wound all the way to his toes whenever he put weight on his bad leg, and he struggled to stay upright. His eyes were stuck to the forest floor, fear and shame making his heart pound in his ears.
“Please, I’m a man now,” he begged. “I know I have to answer for what I did, but please, can I have something for the cold?” He couldn’t even bring himself to voice the shame of how he looked. But when he glanced up to gauge the hunters expression, he found no mercy.
“Don’t look like much of a man to me,” the broad one sneered, and that was that. Dignity shouldn’t be high on his priority list anyway.
The hunter that controlled the dogs had second thoughts, though.
“There’ll be women at the estate. Let’s give it something.”
“Fine, but it’ll get yours.”
The hunter seemed less enthused about the idea now, but he couldn’t back out. With a grumble, he took off his cloak and roughly threw it over Oscar.
“Thank you-” Oscar tried, but the man shut him up by shoving his shoulder. Oscar cried out from the pressure on the bitemarks and would have fallen if it weren't for the rope around his throat. The hunter snapped at him.
“Shut up! I’ll have to burn that damn thing now. Let’s just go.”
The dogs nipped at his heels as the humans pulled him forward, and with ice cold feet and a growing pit of dread in his stomach, Oscar was dragged to his fate.
#hehe my first post im excited!#my writing#my work#whump#whumpblr#nonhuman whumpee#werewolf whumpee#fantasy whump#nudity (nonsexual)#blood cw#manhandling#injury#dehumanisation#it as pronouns#dog attack#death threat#knives#if i missed anything please let me know!
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Hi. So this randomly popped up on my Pinterest feed (i used to have chickens as a kid), and my first thought was, how is that considered safe for chickens? (id:chicken in a wire ball, like a chicken sized hamster ball). It’s supposed to keep them safe from predators or something.
What do you think? For me on one hand, it would’ve been super cool to protect my hens from the hawks, but on the other hand a chicken tractor seems safer and more effective. But seriously, is this just a ridiculous, chicken endangering cash garb, or something that could genuinely benefit a small flock of free ranging hens (I’m considering keeping chickens again in the future, but in my area I’m concerned about coyotes and such). Storey’s Guide To Raising Chickens (it was my chicken husbandry bible and saved my butt more times than I can count), recommends chicken tractors as an effective defence for free ranging birds, and I’ve seen various designs for those, but never anything like this.
Sorry for the long ask.
TL;DR: are chicken orbs a good idea?
They are a terrible idea- an accident waiting to happen like a leg break or worse. These orbs wouldnt protect anything from a predator attack it would just result in a chicken pulled through the holes graphically. This wouldnt stop a hawk, fox, or any predator really its just something that could result in an injured or dead chicken. The best way to protect free range flocks is good fencing, shelter from hawks, and/or a livestock guardian dog working in tandem with other predator deterants such as lights, noise, smells, or sprinkers. Any well trained guardian animal (donkeys,mules,llamas,ect) would protect against canine predators much better then any mesh death trap.
Chicken tractors are a great alternative to free ranging because they can be secure and predator proof. They allow the bird to be on fresh ground often which is also good for the pasture and soil since it prevents them from tearing up one spot. They can just be a burden to move and dont "typically" offer the same sturdiness that a static coop can bring
Another alternative is hardware clothed chicken tunnels but they can be hard to set up and prove fustrating if a bird is sick or injured and decides to hide out of reach. When they work though they are awesome.
#dog attack#literally rose out of bed like the dead to answer this lmao#i hate those chicken balls all i can think of is two words#that mesh wouldnt stop any predator they would just pull the bird through. they can do it with chicken wire EASY#this mesh ball would be no problem for them
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My little lady Layla was attacked while we were out for our daily walk. A pitbull terrier latched onto her face and dragged her across the ground. Me and owners of the dog managed to get him off of her but I ended up with bites and Layla needed stitches in her face and chest.
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A dog of the occupation forces attacked the Palestinian youth Osayd Taha whilst raiding his home in Shwaika neighborhood in Tulkarm.
هاجمه كلب بوليسي.. لحظة اعتقال الاحتلال للشاب أسيد طه من ضاحية شويكة بطولكرم.
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#end israeli terrorism#end israeli occupation#end israeli apartheid#iof terrorism#iof terrorists#israeli terrorism#israeli terrorists#dog attack#palestine#westbank#west bank#gaza#basic human rights#human rights violations#i stand with palestine 🇵🇸#free palestine 🇵🇸#free gaza#gaza strip#free palestine#palestine resources#gazaunderattack#israel is an illegal occupier#israel is an apartheid state#israel is a genocidal state#israel is a war criminal#israel is a terrorist state#israel is committing genocide#Instagram
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「トリプルドッグデスバラージ」（TRIPLE DOG
DEATH BARRAGE!!!)
AAAAA!!! OH NO! I AM BEING MAIMED!! O GOLLY GOSH IT ARE EATIN MY LEG!!
BUT ITS SO CUTE I CANT EVEN FIGHT BACK NOOO I DON WANNA HURT THE PUPPY
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Pit
I had to watch as my pit attacked my chihuahua. The shock and fear made me freeze, but just for a moment before I started yelling, scratching, grabbing and attacking the pit to get off of my chihuahua. My baby. I had to force my pit and into his kennel, going over to my chihuahua and checking him for any injuries, anything. And I’m so glad I found nothing. He was shakey obviously; from just being attacked, but overall ok.
And I just broke down, crying and hugging him, making sure my other little ones were in their kennels so I can hold my baby close to me and make sure he knew that he was gonna be ok. I was so worried about him that I didn’t even notice how my nail was bent in half, my foot was scratched up and bleeding, my legs full of semi bites and scratches, same thing with my arms. But I didn’t care because I was so worried about my chihuahua. All the pain I was supposed to feel was just small pressure beating against every wound.
Right after I had attempted to call my mom, no answer, same thing with my step dad, no answer. My final desperate attempt was my brother; who lives miles away from me, yelling at him and crying hard about what just happened. I couldn’t control my break down and even when he tried to reassure me I just couldn’t stop crying.
“Dogs will be dogs” she says. But how will dogs be dogs when they’re supposed to be trained? My mom promised me either way that they would get rid of him. And they didn’t. They lied to me and kept him. “We’re gonna get him a trainer.” They didn’t do that either. They never kept their word and instead kept that monster in our house. I never felt safe. I wasn’t able to even go and eat without having my mom put him in his kennel, I couldn’t go near him.
And that’s when it started to develop. My hatred for that pit. My fear, my over protective demeanor and need to be with my small babies all the time. It was so bad to the point that I was hallucinating killing the pit, I was writing down plans to get rid of him. To take him out on a walk and go next to traffic so I can let him off the leash and “accidentally” get hit by a car. I despised him, loathed him.
My mom didn’t get rid of him until we moved into a new house, and it was really only then that she realized we couldn’t take care of him. Why? Because the pit frustrated her. Not because he attacked the little ones, not because he bit my fucking arm. Not because he attacked people and other dogs. But because he was loud. To this day I’ll never forgive her; but I remember the first morning I woke up to him gone.
It was like weights were lifted off my shoulders, like as if I could just breathe. It felt so surreal. I had spent years on my feet in literal glass that once that glass was removed; It felt weird. I still had nightmares about the pit, and it took weeks for me to stop having hallucinations of hearing his paws downstairs or barking outside.
And even now, I feel so uncomfortable when the little ones are not in my sight. I eat with them, I sleep with them, I comfort them and make sure they are properly cared for. I don’t want to ever let them be treated like a chew toy for another dog. Not again.
#original poem#artists on tumblr#short story#story#truamacore#childhood truama#tw truama#dogs#dog attack#chihuahua#poems and poetry#poem#poetry#poets on tumblr#orginal writing#writers on tumblr#writing
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My village has really come to support me and my girls and I just can't get over it. I have friends bringing us food, sitting with me for hours without end at the hospital, helping to clean up the blood pooled across my house, willing to accompany me to animal control and when finding a lawyer, and even offered to help front my bills.
All of my family was planning to flock to stay with me but I had to tell them no because we're covered and taken care of by my friends, partners, and family here.
My instinct to isolate is not gonna fly this time, and I'm grateful.
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Nothing like ending the day with a little goat kid attacked by a dog. 🙏 he made it through the night and is on the mend this morning!
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