I remember the first time I was bitten by a dog,
it’s still clear in my mind.
I was out in front of the apartment complex with
about 15 other kids of all ages.
I must have been about 6 or 7.
I remember a sort of wave of panic running over everybody,
first just an increase in volume over the normal
shouting and yelling of kids playing on a partly cloudy
summer day.
Then it increased to a definitive word: “DOG”!
I was kind of stunned at that moment as I watched
all the other kids running for the safety of their
vestibules or behind a bush or up a tree.
For some reason it didn’t register with me.
then more shouting and screaming of “Dog!”
“watch out!”.
turning my head to the left, in the distance, I could see
him coming. I can only see it in slow motion.
He was big, maybe 60-80 pounds, must have been a mutt cause he looked like a labrador but with short hair.
he had a longish muzzle.
He was about 40-50 yards away. and running fast with intent.
At that point, the instincts hit and that meant; RUN
I can remember my older sister telling me to stop and don’t move as she stood motionless atop a big wheel or some sort of bike with another girl beneath her.
I didn’t listen, there was no reasoning.
So I continued to run towards the door about 60 feet away.
It was no use.
a couple of silent seconds passed
and I could hear him behind me.
I didn’t turn, but I knew he had me.
The bite felt like a hard slap.
Right on the ass.
not sharp like a needle, more like running your
hands under water after exposing them to freezing
weather too long.
more screaming and shouting and rolling.
I don’t have a memory of what was next.
or how they got the dog away.
I do remember laying in my living room shortly
after with my pants off and a nurse or paramedic giving me an injection.
the ambulance was one of those black and white station wagons that you don’t see anymore.
people didn’t sue in those days or more likely my parents
weren’t familiar with that custom.
“and the guy is NOT cute, i told you, he’s the epitome of eurotrash. the greasy head curls type, in fact!”
Probably Greek!!! The epitome of what is wrong with the whole world right now.
Yes, he’s greek. He’s entitled to let his doggie do whatever he pleases.
dog story for *rob*
I remember the first time I was bitten by a dog,
it’s still clear in my mind.
I was out in front of the apartment complex with
about 15 other kids of all ages.
I must have been about 6 or 7.
I remember a sort of wave of panic running over everybody,
first just an increase in volume over the normal
shouting and yelling of kids playing on a partly cloudy
summer day.
Then it increased to a definitive word: “DOG”!
I was kind of stunned at that moment as I watched
all the other kids running for the safety of their
vestibules or behind a bush or up a tree.
For some reason it didn’t register with me.
then more shouting and screaming of “Dog!”
“watch out!”.
turning my head to the left, in the distance, I could see
him coming. I can only see it in slow motion.
He was big, maybe 60-80 pounds, must have been a mutt cause he looked like a labrador but with short hair.
he had a longish muzzle.
He was about 40-50 yards away. and running fast with intent.
At that point, the instincts hit and that meant; RUN
I can remember my older sister telling me to stop and don’t move as she stood motionless atop a big wheel or some sort of bike with another girl beneath her.
I didn’t listen, there was no reasoning.
So I continued to run towards the door about 60 feet away.
It was no use.
a couple of silent seconds passed
and I could hear him behind me.
I didn’t turn, but I knew he had me.
The bite felt like a hard slap.
Right on the ass.
not sharp like a needle, more like running your
hands under water after exposing them to freezing
weather too long.
more screaming and shouting and rolling.
I don’t have a memory of what was next.
or how they got the dog away.
I do remember laying in my living room shortly
after with my pants off and a nurse or paramedic giving me an injection.
the ambulance was one of those black and white station wagons that you don’t see anymore.
people didn’t sue in those days or more likely my parents
weren’t familiar with that custom.
I love dogs.
I’ve always had one.
😉
LOL BROKEDEVELOPER hahahhaha. and the guy is NOT cute, i told you, he’s the epitome of eurotrash. the greasy head curls type, in fact!
*rob*
Yes, m4l, you’re right, and I will.
speaking of in bed. where is biff? under the influence of meds sleeping it all off?
DIBS, he knows you owe him at least a lunch/dinner service over there.
quote:
Either way CGar, rob cannot afford a defense attorney.
hello, her name is snappy! im sure she wouldnt mind being paid in glitter.
*rob*
CGar, for the rest of the day your should replace all *rob* with *cathy* and add “in bed” at the end of all sentences you write (in bed).
Example:
By Arkady on May 19, 2010 1:58 PM
Yeah, rob. Talk to the guy – pre-empt the problems.
becomes:
Yeah, *cathy*, Talk to the guy – pre-empt the problems in bed.
I dont think dogs actually eat other dogs.
Lawyers however, do eat their clients at every possible opportunity.