Nobody Came
- SABRINA VICTORIA
- 5 days ago
- 7 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
It was about to be a bloody murder. Inches from my feet.
I had zero control.
The only weapon I had was an open water hose.
So I did the only thing I could think of. Ran to turn it on and started waterboarding a hundred pound pitbull.
My hands were shaking. Pure adrenaline, the kind that makes your own body feel like it belongs to someone else.
Screaming, at the top of my lungs with tears streaming down my face for anyone to help me.
My voice cracking over and over. I screeched. I begged. I yelled until my throat felt raw, until it did not even sound like my voice anymore.
No one came.
***
It was 2023, I was in a huge gated neighborhood in West Boca Raton, Florida. Surrounded by silence. The kind of silence that makes you feel like the whole world stepped outside and left you in it alone.
Two oversized pitbulls, a hundred pounds each, pure muscle, razor teeth, tearing each other apart inches from where I stood.
And me. Five foot four. A hundred and fifty pounds. Cellulite. No idea how to navigate this.
***
Sixty seconds before this I was in the sun by the pool, eyes closed, completely at peace.
No clue that I was about to get a front row seat to a live, vicious dog fight.
This is the scariest day of my life to date. And the first time I have ever shared this story in public.
I was dog sitting. Twenty seven days straight, one home, two female pitbulls. First time watching this set of dogs.
First day.
About six hours in, I took both dogs out back to use the bathroom and sat by the pool. Leaned back. Let the sun hit my face. Relaxed. Full of gratitude.
Ten minutes later the tan one came and sat by my chair. I reached my hand to caress her back. We sat like that a few minutes, her breathing slowing, her whole body settling into mine like she trusted me completely.
I thought, this would be a great picture for the owners.
I leaned in, snapped it.
Before I could even look at the photo, the black and white one full-lunged straight for the tan one's throat. Not metaphorically. Teeth in flesh.
I stood, backed up, stunned.
I started yelling. Stop it. No. All the things you say when a dog is being bad.
Twenty seconds in I realized this was not bad dog behavior. This was a kill.
My chest went tight. My hands went cold. I started screaming bloody murder, the kind
of scream that rips out of you from somewhere below your stomach.
Wherever I went, they went. Not at me. Around me. Blood was already drawing. The growling was not normal growling. It was low and constant, a sound with no air in it, two animals locked in and focused only on winning.
There was nothing in that yard but chairs and cushions. I tried getting a chair between them. Nothing. They did not even register it. They were too far gone to notice me at all. Seeing red.
I scanned the yard, heart slamming, thinking in half sentences. I could go inside and leave them. But they were going to kill each other and I was supposed to be watching them. I could not just walk away and live with that.
So I grabbed the open hose, no nozzle... just water pouring out full blast.
I pressed my thumb on the opening to create a spray effect. Aiming it right at the top dogs face... spraying, yelling. Frantic.
Nothing. Not even a pause, not even a flinch.
Reluctantly, switched dogs. And started waterboarding the one on the bottom, hoping the water would fill her mouth enough that she would gasp, flip and run.
Nothing. She kept fighting, not even a flinch.
Neither dog was trying to escape or run.
Both were fully committed to finishing what they started.
A couple minutes of that going nowhere, all of us soaking wet.
I decided to try getting one inside and closing the door between them.
Still hose. Still spraying. Still screaming, my voice gone hoarse.
The concept. Did. Not. Work.
They both bombarded the sliding door with their full weight as I stepped through. To add to the drama, the twenty foot living room curtains came crashing down on top of all of us while they kept fighting underneath it.
Living room. TV. Couch. Water pouring in everywhere. Me, still screaming, drenched, shaking.
Water was not working. I threw the hose back outside and did the last thing I had left.
I put myself in between.
I am still upset with myself for this. I could have lost my life that day, and some small insane part of me did it to protect my dog sitting reputation.
The owners had an oversized couch with cushions taller than me. I waited until the dogs dropped low, fighting on all fours instead of upright, and I threw a cushion over both their faces and put my full body weight down where I imagined their heads to be.
Me.
Screaming. Crying. Punching down and jumping with everything in me, no strength left, running purely on terror.
Suddenly.
Instead of coming up to attack me, they came up for air and stood apart, for the first time, on opposite sides of me.
Immediately, I threw up the cushion as a shield and guided the black and white one, into a bathroom. Came back out and got the other one into her gated room.
Then I went outside and shook. Uncontrollably. Cried on my knees on the wet concrete, not able to catch my breath.
I called my mom.
After I settled. Two hours later. I called the owners. Told the husband what happened. Told him I might need to take the dogs to the vet and had no idea how I was going to do that.
That is when he told me both dogs were rescued from fighting rings in Colombia. As long as they were not actively dripping blood or missing an eye, they were fine. (this is an entire other conversation...I will save for another day...because what the fuck?!)
The owner was completely unfazed. Not even a little. He said they were fighting dogs, not people aggressive dogs, and to keep them separated for twenty four hours.
Then he explained something to me slowly, in an obvious tone that I will never forget.
He said there is always a moment right before. A look. A sound. A shift in the air. A second where a confrontation is still preventable if you catch it.
He said I was supposed to feel that moment and step in. Physically. With my body, between them, before it became what it became. Owning the space. Alpha.
He said it so plainly. Like it was not a skill but a human trait.
I never put those dogs together again for the rest of the twenty six days.
But what he said stayed with me. Still.
It made me realize.
There is almost always a sign. A small one. A pull in your gut, a tightness in your chest, a hesitation you talk yourself out of because you have a schedule to keep and a life to run.
Then I went outside and shook. Uncontrollably. Cried on my knees on the wet concrete, not able to catch my breath.
I was in awe, that owner was so in tune with his surroundings he could sense a shift from across the yard.
It was not a gift it was a noticing of the energy around his being.
And this is what came up for me...
Where has this happened in my business, when the deal feels off or I feel the urge to invest but don't.
Where has this happened in my body, when I feel off or I feel the urge to workout or eat cleaner but don't.
Where has this happened in my relationships, when something in me already knows he is not it, or he is not safe, or this partnership is going to cost me more than it gives me, and I stay anyway because leaving feels hard.
We call it feminine energy like it is soft. It is not soft. It is the sharpest instrument you own. It is data. It is your body doing math your mind has not caught up to yet.
Intuition without action is just a feeling you had one time. Intuition you act on is the thing that saves your life, your health, your money, your heart.
Since that day I read a room differently. I read a person differently. I feel a shift in the air before anyone says a word, and now, unlike that day by the pool, I move.
I realized something that day. It was never about the dogs.
It was about me and all the signs I had ignored my entire life.
***
House of Velani is the room I built for women business owners who are done ignoring the signs. A mastermind for women who are ready to build their business and stop waiting on the signs.
Meet the expert:
Sabrina Victoria is the creator of Her Nation Magazine, a TEDx speaker, powerhouse entrepreneur, and founder of Her Nation Global. A bold media platform designed to elevate women in business through high-visibility features like podcasts, digital magazine covers, and transformational events. She runs a mastermind called, House of Velani, where she guides women business owners toward creating more cash flow into their business. With 20+ years in door-to-door sales and the co-creation of multiple 6- and 7-figure ventures, Sabrina leads with charisma, strategy, and an unapologetic belief in the power of community and connection.
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