The Most Dangerous Game?*

Austria avalanche kills 3; Ski patrollers killed in France  (Washington Post, January 13, 2019)

At 24, NFL player retires after his 6th concussion: ‘My well-being is more important’  (Today, August 2, 2018)

Teen Surf Star Loses Arm in Shark Attack  (ABC News, November 3, 2003)

Yes, skiing the Alps can be dangerous, I think we’d all agree.  Ditto pro football.  Make that double for big-wave surfing in Hawaii.

But why isn’t dog-walking on this list???

Last week, while playing fetch with Kemba at Compo Beach (what else would I be doing?), I ran into my friend Ana, a professional dog walker.  I was surprised to see her with just one dog, her own Lucy, a seven-year-old Boxer/Pointer mix;  usually she looks like the Pied Piper of Winslow Park (aka “the dog park” to most Westporters), with a whole pack trailing her.  I was also surprised to see her right arm in a sling.  Which got us onto the subject of the perils of dog walking.

“I was doing my last walk of the day,” she told me, “with five well-behaved dogs.  My easy group!”  They were on the lower trail at Winslow.  The Golden in her pack came running up from behind, and clipped her on her right side.  She went down hard, putting her right arm out to break her fall.  Instead, she broke her elbow — in two places.

The good news, Ana said, was that “all my dogs stayed right there with me, licking my face, waiting for me to finally get up.”  And her story also featured a Good Samaritan.  “When Mike, the guy I was walking with, realized there was no way I could drive, he drove all my dogs home, and then dropped me off at the E.R.!”

I felt bad for Ana — but she was talking to someone who just might be leading the league in dog-walking injuries.  Back in January, 2015, when Kemba was a five-month-old pup, I was walking him on an icy Vermont road, fell backwards on my head, and when I came to, he was perched on my chest, licking my face frantically.  (See “Kemba’s Lassie Moment.”)  That was concussion #1.    In April, 2017, in Winslow Park, two large white dogs running at full speed smashed into the back of my knees.  Once again I landed on my head, and wound up in the Norwalk Hospital E.R.  Concussion #2.  (See “Gaining On Wayne.”)  Oh, and I’ve also just finished two months of physical therapy for nerve damage in my neck and pain radiating down my right shoulder and arm — primarily from throwing tennis balls to Kemba pretty much 24/7.

Ana and I are not the only victims, not by a long shot.  Abby, a customer of hers,

was also knocked down by two dogs awhile back, and broke her ankle.  And Ana’s friend Eric had to have hand surgery after breaking up a dog fight.  She also told me tales of a broken hip, a broken shoulder, and another concussion — all from collisions with dogs, and all occurring at Winslow Park.

Last winter, my wife Carol took a header while skiing at Bromley, suffered a bad concussion, and has since “retired” from skiing.  But think about it:  She skied for some 45 years, and had one concussion.  I’ve been walking Kemba for a little over 4 years, and have had two.  Plus the shoulder injury.

So you tell me which is the most dangerous game.

*   If “The Most Dangerous Game” has a familiar ring to it, it was a short story by Richard Connell, written in 1924, that we all had to read in junior high.  That was back when people still read.

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