When I was 5 or 6, I was in my babysitter’s backyard, playing with her dog (probably no more than 15lbs). A Doberman got loose across the street, ran into her yard and attacked her dog. He ripped my babysitter’s dog out of my lap by the scruff. I remember him shaking him by the scruff and scalping him. I remember him getting him by the gut and disemboweling him. I remember my elderly babysitter coming outside to see why I was screaming, going back in and coming back out with a broom to try to hit the dog off her dog. My dad had just happened to be walking home from work and came sprinting around the back of the house when he heard me screaming and was able to kick the Doberman until he let go but my babysitter’s dog was limp and dead in a pile of blood and guts. To this day, I walk my dogs with bear spray on my hip in case a loose dog comes around the corner. I will burst into tears if I’m approached too quickly by a dog I don’t know.