The other day the kids and I were jogging on our normal route and came to a spot notoriously known for having loose dogs. We encounter dogs every time we run. We had even come across another dog just blocks before. They always bark and often run after us, but I have always been of the attitude - don't pay them any attention, don't show fear, and they'll leave you alone, they're more scared of you than you are of them.
But this day, one of them bit me! I yelled at it and told it to go away and kept jogging. After a bit, I got to thinking that maybe I needed to do something and called Marc. From that conversation I ended up calling the police and going in to their office since I was walking by.
Lest your begin to think it was a huge, viscous dog (like Julie did), let me set the record straight. It was a little long haired terrier-type dog, but it did get a good little bite out of my calf.
Here's the picture of the "evidence", before the EMT cleaned it up.
Here's my huge (awesome!) stroller in the sheriffs office. Note Hope is still in her jammies just contentedly watching me give my first ever police report.
I called Shirley and she met me there. I didn't know what I was going to get into. But it didn't take long and we were on or way. The policeman came by the house the next day showing me a picture of the dog and asking if it was the right one. It was. I haven't heard anything more.
The bite is healing fine. A little bruised around the outside. We decided not to go check for rabies since we had no reason to believe the dog had them. The thing that makes me most upset is that now I'm afraid or at least leery, and I hate that. I don't want to be.
Now I know why Dad gets so nervous to run where he doesn't know the dogs...