Both Noni and my mom had helpful little suggestions for this post's title. Noni suggested the alliterative title, "Blood....in the Bathroom". My mom's was even cheerier. She wanted "Rest in Pieces", because by the time they do the rabies testing on the dog, it won't necessarily be quite as intact as it started out. Thanks for the offers of help. I'll have my people get back to you if I decide to use your ideas. Don't call me, I'll call you.
It all happened this way....
Laura decided to start a dog walking business. She lined up a job, picked up her first client, a fat little Westie, and stopped off at my parents' house to let me know she was headed out. Very responsible. Only problem was my parents' very aggressive-with-other-dogs 130 pound German Shepherd was right by the door. Terribly excited by a close-up look at that enticing little bit of white fluff, she lunged at the latched storm door, burst it open, and hurtled down the driveway at the Westie.
I was right behind, but she'd already latched on by the time I got there. Immediately calculating the risks, I thrust my two hands into the Shepherd's mouth and tried to pry her jaws open. Her grip was too strong, and it took several tries before I caught her right at a moment when she shifted slightly to get a better grip. Meanwhile, Laura was screaming, and the menfolk were rapidly approaching.
Only seconds had gone by, though it seemed an eternity at the time. The Shepherd was taken and chained in the back yard. I took a moment to run in and rinse my hands and clamp on some toilet paper, then dashed back out to take care of poor little Muffins. She had 3 puncture wounds readily apparent, though the vet found 5 total, and was bloody.
I took her in my parents' house to try to clean her up before presenting her to the owners that had sent her trustingly off about 8 minutes before, but have you ever tried to clean bright red blood off of a Westie? Didn't go so well, let me tell you. I finally gave up and took her over. She was rushed down to Williston to the vet, but she'll be fine, which I'm VERY thankful for.
Hannah, the German Shepherd was not so lucky, since it was immediately decided to have her put down. My mom and I took her in, and I stayed with her while the sedatives took effect. I didn't feel bad because she had to be put down, because she truly wasn't a safe dog to keep, but anytime you have to face death in an up-close-and-personal way, you can't help but feel how unnatural it really is. It was never God's plan that we should have to experience the separation of death, and I look forward to the time when that ugly intruder will no longer be a part of our lives.
Laura had a very hard time with the intense tragedy that so quickly overwhelmed her pastoral attempts at entrepreneurship. One minute she's walking a cute little dog, the next it's on the way to the ER, and another dog is on its way to the electric chair. Hard for anyone, but she is now doing better at accepting that it really wasn't her fault.
Oh, and as to what happened to me, I go into the clinic tomorrow to get a tetanus shot, then I wait the almost certain clear result of the rabies test to determine whether I need those shots as well. I have 2 punctures on my fingers and some slicing cuts on some of the others. It could have been a lot worse, and Hannah never intended to bite me; what else can happen when you shove your hands down the throat of an attacking behemoth? My hands are a tad sore however, and I am realizing how much they are actually good for. Quite a lot, really!
(If you felt like it, you could take a moment and note the different sizes of my two middle fingers.)