“Death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away; I'm living my life do-or-die, uh, what can I say?”

We begin our morning hike at local park, dressed for the cold and windy temperatures. Kenzie, a black Pitbull and Dachshund mix donning a pink and gray “Perfect girl” hoodie, takes the lead. She trots ahead of us along the wet, leafy path. Between the bare trees, leaf-covered ground, and lack of markers or a map, it’s hard to differentiate between the trail and landscape. We walk along the rushing river with white-capped rapids noticing the river’s height and the fast-paced current. Conversation between Kenzie’s daddy and me is light, fun, romantic, and easy. We laugh. We talk about Kenzie and her natural ability to produce smelly farts whenever he is around. She darts in various directions, unaware of our topics, but always making sure we are no more than a few feet behind.

As the trail turns up a steep hillside, we know we’ll cross over onto private property for mere minutes before returning to state-owned land. It’s a risk we’ve taken many times before, but never once had we encountered another group.

Kenzie darts up the incline like it’s flat land. I huff and puff, suddenly feeling no need for so many layers. He walks behind me, encouraging me.

We reach the top, picking up easy conversation when we hear dogs barking and galloping across the wooded landscape. Without seeing them, it’s impossible to know where exactly they are and if we should leash Kenzie.

It’s too late. The decision came milliseconds too late.

Kenzie is pinned against a narrow tree. Three large tan dogs, of a Pitbull breed, attack. There are yelps, growls, and bared teeth. Flashes of tan, pink, gray, and black are entangled. I can hear the hammering beats of my heart over my yells of “GET OFF! GET OFF! GET OFF!” I lunge toward the pack, not knowing where to position my hands.

A man’s voice yells for the dogs to return to him. He yells twice. My screams drown out the sounds from the dogs. Two of the three retreat.

Kenzie escapes and like a black bullet, she zips into the landscape, away from the commotion. One dog stays on her trail, but she easily outpaces him. Kenzie’s daddy darts after her. I stand motionless, unable to comprehend what has happened, not knowing if Kenzie is alright.

The man’s voice echoes in the background saying something to the tune of “What did they expect once they entered private property?”

I turn my back on the voice and walk toward Kenzie. The man calls for the last dog and reluctantly, it retreats, pausing only when it reaches me. It looks at me with curiosity and continues back to its pack.

Kenzie turns toward me when I call her and trots over. Instinctively, I pick her up and hold her close. She’s unscathed. The surroundings are quiet like none of it ever happened.

We turn back the way we came and start the trek back. We don’t speak and when I put Kenzie down, she stays close. Conversation has halted and my mind simply replays my yells and the flash of colors.