“No.” I tightened my grip on her sleeve. “Please. Stay exactly where you are.”
She looked at the snake and froze.
The rattle lifted higher.
Titan’s lips peeled back, but he did not lunge. He had already made his choice. He was holding the child down because any attempt to sit up would bring her head directly into the strike zone.
I keyed my radio.
“Dispatch, officer emergency at Centennial Park. Venomous snake within inches of a child. K9 is physically shielding her. Send medical and animal control. No sirens on final approach.”
The dispatcher asked me to repeat it.
I did.
The crowd backed away one cautious step at a time.
A uniformed park officer arrived from the fountain side and reached for his holster.
“Don’t shoot,” I said.
The words nearly broke me.
“Do not shoot the dog. Do not shoot the snake unless it clears the child.”
He nodded and moved to block the crowd.
For the next ninety seconds, Titan held his position.
The girl stopped struggling. She seemed to understand that the animal crushing her into the cold ground was not hurting her on purpose.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Emily.”
“Emily, my dog’s name is Titan. He needs you to be as still as he is. Can you help him?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“Good. Look at me, not the leaves.”
Her blue eyes found mine.
“Is he going to bite me?”
“No.”
I said it with more certainty than I felt about anything else in the world.
“He’s keeping you safe.”
Animal control came running with a hook and a locked transport box. The officer crouched ten feet away, studied the angle, then looked at me.
“Can your dog stay?”
“Yes.”
Titan’s ears flicked at my voice.
