User:Hft1995/sandbox

On Friday my deaf neighbor's dog bit my hand.

It was a beautiful spring afternoon, just about the time the neighborhood starts getting filled up with people returning from work. I was coming over to say hello to our retired cop friend Mark, who has lost most of his hearing after years on the force. So I went up to the fence between us so he could read my lips, then his dog jumped up at my arm and dragged it down to his side.

Mark's eyes got wide and he froze--he didn't make a move to get the dog off me or anything at first. I twisted my wrist and pulled free, taking a step back from the fence. All Mark kept saying over and over was "He's had his shots. He's had his shots..." and I stared at him, gaping, frightened and waiting for the adult before me to spring into action. But all Mark did was stand there.

I--almost blindly--stumbled inside clutching my hand. I was home alone, and nobody was picking up my phone calls. So I put pressure on the wound and went into a hysterical panic. I started to hyperventilate, became sweaty, and nearly fainted. After a while, there was a knock on the front door. It was Mark coming to check on me. I didn't answer. Too little too late, Mark.

Eventually my roommates did come home to help me and I was taken to the hospital, but not before Mark had made two more trips over to our door to check on me--without actually speaking to me directly until the very last trip.

Mark and I used to be pals, but I don't think I'm going to be Mark's pal anymore. Not because his dog bit me, but because he handled it so poorly. I looked up to one of my seniors to tell me what to do when something went wrong, and he failed. I think I'll still include him in the friendly "mailbox wave," though.