I was bitten by a dog yesterday.
Writing those words seems so bland. Like I just said I was bitten by a mosquito.
No, I was ravenously gnawed on by a large dog with a very strong jaw. Mechanic Man and I were doing our usual browsing through various yard sales. We routinely meet and greet the various dogs and cats who act like we have arrived solely to visit with them and give them our attention and pets. I look forward to these visits because we don’t have room for pets, and I crave the cuddling and warm fuzzy feel.
But not this time.
This time I was going back to the car – and the dog (on a chain inside the owner’s fenced yard) ran up to the fence, both paws on the fence, acting so much like all the other yard sale dogs – I thought in a friendly, “pet me!” attitude.
I was wrong.
He bit down hard on my hand and chewed, then grabbed my other hand as I was trying to get his grip off of me. I came away with dozens of puncture wounds on the top of my right hand, and deep bite marks and cuts on the top of my left hand and middle finger. I now have steri-strips and gauze wrapped around both hands, and a splint on my left middle finger.
More worrisome is that the bites narrowly missed the large vein going across my left hand – my dialysis hand. I have dialysis in my left upper arm – and all dialysis patients need to keep their arms and hands SAFE for future dialysis sites because they always fail eventually and a new site needs to be ready. It’s very scary.
Anyway – three hours spent at Emergency, including the “scrubbing” of all the wounds, sending in a Dog Bite report, and now home – typing with about five fingers.
I will not be petting strange animals anymore. And that is really, really heart breaking for me. It makes me cry.