What I Learned From Being Bitten by a Dog

It happened as suddenly and unexpectedly as a lightning bolt from a cloudless sky.

The Rottweiler’s huge mouth engulfed my entire hand and wrist. As he clamped shut, pain like hundreds of dull nails shot up my arm. He gave me a violent shake, and just as quickly as he struck, he let go.

The attack happened in the blink of an eye and in slow motion at the same time.

Only moments before, I was strolling with my brother in his backyard as he showed me his new home. I had noticed the dog lying by the chain link fence in his neighbor’s backyard seemingly unconcerned about our movements.

When we approached the area where he was, he lifted his heavy frame and draped his front paws over the fence. My brother called him by name and petted him.

I’ve had dogs my entire life and knew I should be slow and easy about introducing myself to the dog. So, I put my hand to his nose to let him smell and see that I meant him no harm.

I don’t know why he bit me, but I was left blood dripping from my hand, paralyzed with the shock. Never in my wildest imagination did I dream he would bite me. It was the first time in my life I’d been dog bit.

Inside my brother’s house, I washed my hand off in the sink wile muttering, “I can’t believe what just happened.”

My wife, sister-in-law, daughter, and brother urged me to go to the hospital, but I resisted.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Let’s just peroxide it and put on some ointment.”

I told my daughter, “I know how much you like dogs. But I’m warning you to stay away from that dog. He’s dangerous.”

A couple of hours later, I looked out the patio doors leading to the backyard where my daughter was watching her young nephews. I spotted the dog back reared up on the fence.

I watched in disbelief as she approached the dog, stopping a few feet from the fence and talking to it.

I knew what was going to happen but was powerless to stop it.

The dog lunged and grabbed her arm, pulling and slamming her against the fence.

By the time I get to her, the dog had let go and retreated.

That time, a trip the ER was necessary for stitches and shots.

What I didn’t know at the time was how severely my psyche had been wounded by what happened.

Three months later, while visiting with a friend at his house, he mentioned he had a new dog he wanted me to see. He whistled and from around the corner of his house a large dog bounded toward us.

With the force of a sledgehammer my heart slammed against my chest, and I felt thousands of pin pricks from my head to my feet. I could hardly breathe. I felt like jumping in the bed of my truck or climbing a tree.

It was the first time in my life I’d ever been afraid of a dog. All from being bitten one time and from seeing my daughter attacked.

Some people have been bitten by life multiple times, and it’s shaped who they are and how they react to others.

It’s not always about you.

* Taken from The Wit and Wisdom of David Johnson, Volume 1: I Didn’t Know Donkeys Could Laugh.