Demanulation, two-revolutions backwards, rabid canines

The dog's barking. I kneel and try to calm it with my soothing, dog-assuring hand. It snaps. I narrowly evade demanulation. I'm kneeling and Wendy is yanking the dog back on a tight leash. I'm thinking that all dogs love me since my own dog does, and supposedly I said just let the dog attack me.

She let go. In the next instant, that ravenous snout that was nipping my heels, jabbed me with its rabid canines, knocking me into a two-revolutions backwards roll right through the open flap of the tent in which Crowley's dreaming of perfect networking connections. Wendy's yelling at her dog for being a dog. There's blood. Everyone fusses over me. I'm nonchalant, as if this happens all the time. Everyone disappears into their tents. I roll the driver's side seat back in my electric blue Subaru and try sleeping. Ten minutes later, I negotiate Route One and get home without incident-except that, when I open the door, my dog starts barking. My mom wakes up and slowly comes downstairs in her nightgown. My entire nose and cheeks are covered in fresh blood. She thinks I was in a fight. I try to tell her what happened, but I can't express it correctly. As I try to tell my mother about the attack, at almost five in the morning, I notice that her sleepiness barely pillows her concern. Through her puffy eyes I can see she's astonished that her little baby goo-goos-her only son-can be comfortable in the bewildered and very conspicuously scarred skin before her. I can see she's upset. I decide to never mention it again.

Could you please explain to me the emboldened parts?

Source : http://www.barcelonareview.com/12/e_lk.htm

Though I guess "rabid canines" means "unpleasant teeth"