It all began with the promise of a spring break full of beach days and yoga classes. I rushed from the building as school boys from their books and got Monic, my 95 lb bulldog, and headed to the dog park to meet my boyfriend on his lunch break. Things were going great. Monic got in and out of the water, he played with dogs and kids alike. And then the dark cloud that is someone’s German Shepard attacked poor Monic.
He reacted as anyone in my family would: wholly confused by the violent attack. But, before long he was who he was made to be and the next thing we all knew, Monic had the German Shepherd’s throat in his mouth, jaw locked. In all the hullabaloo to get him to release all I heard was that they were going to kill Monic. So, I did what any mother in their right mind would do, I got involved. In the scuffle I stuck my hands in Monic’s mouth, believing myself to be the jaws of life, and attempted, valiantly if I do say so myself, to get Monic to let up. Thankfully, he did, but only immediately after he bit down on my left index finger .
Long story short, my nail is gone, the tip of my finger was nearly amputated by his teeth and I have obtained a bone infection of some sort. I had to have surgery(more on this later) and most recently I have been blessed with a portable IV so that I may, once a day, administer my own antibiotcs at home daily.
It creeps me out.
But Monic’s just fine.
No, that wasn’t said with the slightest bit of cynicism.