Dog eat dog

Lesson to self...

When faced with two fighting dogs, do not under any circumstances put your hand between them to pull your dog out.

But you all knew that already, I'm sure.  Even I knew that, but it didn't stop me from thrusting my hand towards Reg's collar to release him from the clutches of the other dog. The outcome of this idiotic bravery of mine is a rather nasty flesh wound, eight stitches, and a scar which I might possibly be able to pass off as the result of a shark attack in years to come.  Not only do I have the impressive scars, I also have a rather deep dip on my forearm where the surgeon cut out the teeth marks which would quite comfortably house a golf ball.

There have been many to-ings and fro-ings to various hospitals over the last few days.  After the initial A&E visit on Saturday afternoon, I had been booked in at the plastic surgery unit to see what could be done with the damage.  Once the shock had worn off and I eventually stopped crying on Saturday night, I did ponder whether it would be appropriate to ask for a pair of 36DD's while I was with the plastic surgeon on the Sunday.

Luckily, he had a fantastic sense of humour, and after the surgery was done (no boobs unfortunately, as 'not his specialty'), he got me to hold my hand up over a bowl while a litre of saline was washed over all the wounds.  'I just hope the water doesn't go in the top holes and come out the bottom', I quipped.  'I'd be in trouble then'.

Sensing that I was made of sturdier stuff than most, he said, 'Want to take a look?'  Up till now, his nurse had been holding my gaze in a 'Kaa from Jungle Book' way, making me talk about nonsense to keep my eyes averted from the crime scene.

'Ooh yes,' I said swinging round to look at my arm.

It bore a slight resemblance to the surface of the moon with the craters, but having watched him neatly stitch it all up, I was much happier with how it looked.

But back to this sorry tale/tail.  At no time have I blamed the other dog for biting me instead of Reg.  It was just a catalogue of events with a rather sad ending.  If any one of the things leading up to the fight had not taken place, then I am sure that I would be sitting here with two perfectly normal arms, and not one which will end up looking like a prosthetic from the film set of The Elephant Man

But as I said to the surgeon after he finished, it's what opera gloves were invented for.