Heart Broken Days

 Someone did not get the memo, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. 

 

Yesterday afternoon,after arriving home with my dog from a long walk, she appeared to be really chewing something.  It was another bone from somewhere.  The second one.  I don’t know where it came from but she picked it up and saved it?  I tried to remove it with a sharp drop it but she ignores those words, all the time.  I was not going to reach in and get it as I have not had her since puppyhood, but rather only three years of her eleven. So I tried distracting with a few sharp pulls on her harness with the leash still on.  At that she became enraged, dropped the bone alright, and latched on to my right hand with such vengeance and didn’t let go until I screamed.  Blood streaming, ran to the bathroom, shocked and sobbing. Finally called my PCP and they directed me to the ER for care as they wanted it ex-rayed.  I got the message clearly hands are very susceptible to infections from dog bites, even if it is your dog that bit you.

After four hours, anxious being in a hospital ER, seen by a few doctors, ex-rays, prescription for antibiotics, flushing into the wounds with sterile water(fun stuff), and a hefty co-pay, I returned home.  Sad, hungry, and exhausted.  I tore off my clothing and took a shower to wash off the hospital before I ate and went to bed.  Paranoid?  Maybe.  But after being home for twelve months, but for food and books, and being of a certain age, a hospital did not feel like the place I should be. So today the wounds are trying to scab but it is my right hand, after all.  My dishes are piled up and too soon to try and put gloves on and do them.  So soaking and hoping for the best.  I don’t care actually.  I am cool with the dog right now, and that does not mean OK.  I am sad that this attack happened.  I understand in some way, I did provoke her, unwittingly.  I didn’t know what she was chewing on and was concerned.  I don’t eat meat so where she picked the dam bone up in the first place, I have no idea.  When I found it, in piece on the floor it appeared to be a pork chop bone. She walks with her nose to the ground most of the time, so she picks things up before I know it.  But the strength of her attack.  Just wow.  She is a dog and doesn’t understand my hurt.  I realize that also, but I am somewhat broken hearted.  

I can’t write, draw, knit or weave.  Even holding a leash is out of the question for the need to switch hands all the time.  Typing has been a chore with the mouse.  I have to use my left hand. And the mouse and I are not communicating well.  So still feel shocked and numb.  My hand is stiff and swollen do to both the bite and arthritis.  So I am going out for a long walk in the sunshine, alone.  I need to process and calm myself. The following photo is the cleaned up version.