My dogs knew first – stranger danger

I can’t say that I’ve always wanted a dog, but after leaving active military service – I got two.I was living in Los Angeles, the pandemic had ended and life was starting to pick up again. I felt like something was missing.
I had been thinking about adopting a dog and had been looking at different shelters when out of the blue I received a phone call from a good friend of mine Naomi Magee (a Diné celebrity in the fashion industry, dachshund breeder and founder of (Little Dachund Legs).)
Naomi told me about a little dog in need of a home. I jumped in my car and drove three hours to pick up a little Daschund named Butch.
It wasn’t long before Butch and I were moving into a newly purchased home in South LA. I knew my little pup needed a companion because his behaviour had changed.
So again my dear friend Naomi reached out to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse,
she had in her possession a black and tan Doberman. It was almost like she knew when I was in need of a dog. It’s a sixth sense with that one.
The first few months were tough, but we all got through it.
My protective Doberman I named Cali made life in a big city a little easier for me because strangers would think twice about approaching me or our home. Honestly, I worry more about someone stealing or hurting him because he’s such a beautiful dog.

A few years ago I packed up and moved from Los Angeles back to Treaty 4 territory and I now live and work in Regina.

Safety remains a high priority for me.
On May 12th I was getting ready for work as I usually do and let my dogs out to run in the backyard.
I recently moved into a house with a yard in a presumably quiet neighborhood.
This particular morning my dogs were barking nonstop. I thought oh maybe it’s a squirrel or rabbit nearby because both my boys seemed to be really riled up.
I suddenly heard swearing and yelling and my dogs kept barking.
I tried to ignore it and thought maybe it would blow over, but I didn’t.
I was honestly worried my dogs were becoming too disruptive in this normally quiet neighborhood. I thought maybe my neighbours next door were having issues and went out to see what was going on.
I walked out the backdoor and see my dogs barking towards the alley. I then hear a man swearing at my dogs to shut up.
I thought, “well that’s rude.”
My dogs don’t respond to profanity, so I stepped out of the yard and into the alley thinking I could go and talk to the neighbour who seemed upset about my barking dogs.
I went to where I thought I heard the yelling, but as it turned out it was a man passing through the alley.
He was on the avenue walking towards the school when I saw him.
Something was clearly wrong.
He appeared distressed and in a visible crisis yelling bout something I couldn’t quite figure out.

I pulled out my phone and started recording him because he was walking in the direction of the elementary school. He turned around and once he saw me he yelled and came charging towards me saying “You f—-ng bitch”.

I didn’t have much time to react.

I thought well I’m already on the street someone might see me or hopefully there’s ring cameras.
I remember thinking, “damn, I’m going to have to fight for my life as this 6-foot-240-pound-looking man came charging towards me.”

I braced myself and turned towards him ready to accept whatever was going to happen.
I stayed calm.

He came halting inches away from me and blurted out in the tone of a child,
“I’m not scared of you”.

He then bent down and grabbed a handful of rocks and dirt from the ground and threw it at me.
I turned my shoulder up to deflect it. He then started walking the other direction away from me mumbling words I cannot remember.
I called the police but kept my eyes on the stranger and walked slowly backwards.
They told me to get into my house and asked which direction he was walking. I gave them all the details I could recall.
After I hung up the phone I sat down at my desk to process everything.
I made a Facebook post and shared the video I took because I wanted folks to know what happened and that he is still out there somewhere potentially wandering the streets.
My brother called me and asked me if I was OK and that’s when I started to cry.
My mind was filled with “what ifs” and my Facebook Newsfeed was filled with comments and notifications.
One notification gave a name and mentioned “High Risk Offender.”
I did a Google search. I gasped when I learned of this man’s previous history.
That’s when the reality of what had almost happened finally hit me.
Although being pelted with the rocks didn’t do much physical damage, but my mental health and nervous system took a hit that day.
I’m still shooketh.
Not so much of the scary white man but the false sense of safely living in a presumably “nicer” Regina neighborhood.
I felt angry at myself for letting my guard down.

I bought into the idea that a ‘good neighbourhood’ automatically meant safety.

I should have known better.

“Next time listen to your dogs Robin, they’re just doing their job… protecting you!”

I learned a valuable lesson and it was to listen to my dogs.
They knew first.
Imagine that, me thinking I’m being a disruption to the neighbourhood because my dogs are barking at folks who come near my yard.
The days following the incident weren’t easy. My entire sense of self has been disrupted.
I went through my normal routine: grabbing my Greek yogurt and berries for breakfast. The day after it happened. I sat at the table staring at my blueberries and instead of washing them like I normally do, I just dumped them into my yogurt bowl and started eating.

Possibly fighting for my life really puts things into perspective. Consuming unwashed berries no longer seems so important.

I began thinking about what I was doing before everything happened.

Where was I?. Who was I with? What was I doing? What were the last photos and videos anyone had taken of me?

Funny enough, the weekend prior I was wearing a T-shirt with some ridiculous meme and just enjoying life. I found myself wondering: what if those had been the last pictures anyone had of me?

Somewhere between the Facebook messages and phone calls, the humour started showing up.
I found myself joking, “Well, at least you all know who’s holding the axe during the zombie apocalypse.”

When things get serious, Indigenous humour and trauma responses clock in immediately.

My brother sent me a message saying, “My sister is the toughest man I know.”

Being a First Nations woman and a military veteran, I suppose that statement holds some weight.

People often celebrate strength without talking about what it costs to carry it.

Somewhere along the way, many Indigenous women learn to become protectors, not because we necessarily want to, but because life teaches us early on that we have to be.

We defend our safety. We defend our children. We defend our honour. We defend our ceremonies. We defend our work ethic. We defend our voices, our experiences, and sometimes even our right to take up space.

We become strong because strength becomes necessary. But it can be exhausting.
Standing on that sidewalk that morning, I remember thinking , “I’m going to have to fight for my life.”
What shook me most was realizing how quickly I accepted it.
In that split second, I understood something very clearly: nobody, in that moment, was coming to save me.
I wonder how many women, especially Indigenous women, understand that feeling long before they should have to.
The situation had me reflecting on my life, and who gets to feel safe? I realized how quickly safety can disappear, and how many women already live preparing for that possibility.
I might make light of the situation or joke about it now but it’s just a trauma response.

I kept asking myself, why me? Why this?

The only answer I could come up with was maybe because I have a voice.
Maybe because conversations around community safety need to happen.
Maybe because Indigenous women deserve more than survival; we deserve to feel safe too.
May is recognized as Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls and Two-Spirit Awareness Month and June is Indigenous History Month.
Robin Cote is a freelance writer and a EFN Media columnist.