On Sunday morning I decided to go for a jog before church. It was a typical Sunday morning, and a typical run. I rounded the corner on a particular street less than half-way through my 3-mile jog, like usual. And I saw the run-down pink house, with the unkempt yard.
And then out of nowhere, a friend came to greet me—their big, brown, muscular dog. It didn’t bark. It didn’t growl. It simply chased me about two steps, jumped at my leg, and bit me. It sunk its sharp teeth into the soft meaty flesh, which is the back of my thigh. And I stopped in shock and genuine surprise at the audacity of this mutt.
The bite was worse than I initially thought. Two circular puncture wounds mark the dog’s bicuspid fangs, and a semi-circle of black, blue, and purple is the perfect replica of Bruiser’s mouth. I don’t know the dog’s given name, but I choose to call him Bruiser, because that is what he is.
Now don’t worry. I told the owner what happened. I went to the doctor who informed me that it is a very “clean” bite. But I don’t think there’s anything clean about it! Apparently that means it’s not infected, I don’t need antibiotics, and I’m not going to die of rabies. Yay.
So, what is the lesson? I know there must be one. Is it to carry pepper spray when I jog? Bring a stick? Run down a different street? No. Well, those are all ideas…but that’s not the lesson I learned. From this experience I took away two things. First, don’t wait until your neighbor’s dog bites you before you knock on the door and introduce yourself. And second, don’t run on Sunday…it’s the day of rest! ☺