But I can’t.
Ok. I really am pretty much over it. But every once in awhile I can’t help but get a little freaked out.
I’ve been around dogs since the bite, and it seems as if I will come out of this without a fear of dogs in general. I still think, for the most part, dogs are good people.
Dogs hanging out outside without owners close by, however, are another story. I told Mark the day I got bit that I don’t know that I will ever feel comfortable being alone with a dog. I want someone else around. Preferably an owner of said dog.
And I was right. I am afraid to be alone with dogs.
It’s the only way that I can explain walking out to my car this morning and seeing this ferocious beast barrelling towards me…
Grr. I’m gonna get you, Marie.
And I screamed.
Like a little girl.
I got into my car as fast as possible because I was terrified. Terrified, People. Of a dog I could throw.
Not only that. He had one of those cones around his head which is evidence that he had probably recently gone through some type of surgical procedure. (It’s starting to sound like I’m making this up, but I’m not. I would not come out of the blogging fast to lie to you, People.)
Terrified. Of a dog I could throw. Who was recovering from surgery.
I am pathetic.
I tried to take a picture of him with my cellphone. But couldn’t bring myself to open the car door. Because, sure, I could pick him up and throw him, but I wasn’t really interested in taking any risks.
Isn’t that sad?
*And just for further information. This is what the dog that did bite me looked like. Just a little bigger. And all black. And evil. Pure evil.