Well, CRAP! I got bitten by a dog on THIS Friday the 13th!

 

That’s a first for me since the 1980’s!

 

That little sucker was bent on mangling me,  too, but it failed miserably, I’m happy to report.

 

If I see it again, I will take a picture and call 911 to come and take it off my street for good.

 

The De-tails

 

Today was feria and lunch day, so I headed down the calle at about 10:15 to meet up with Dale and Crystal so I could Uber in with them — our weekly ritual on most weeks.

 

As I was heading down the calle, I noticed two dogs tearing apart a bag of basura (trash) that they had pulled from one of the canastas (trash collection baskets) that line the street.

 

As soon as they saw me, the all-black one trotted in my direction growling a little bit. So I thought it was a good idea to start across the street to the other side so they could enjoy their pilfering without any perceived competition.

 

But that didn’t satisfy the black and white dog that was still with the trash.  I didn’t even get a foot onto the pavement before it put its head down and headed for me like a freight train. It was still more than 30 feet away but I could see it meant business. The body language said it all!

 

Knowing that dogs in packs are more fierce and potentially dangerous, I pushed my cart out in front of me, between myself and the incoming bullet dog.  I yelled at it to stop but it kept coming and trying to get around the cart so it could nail me.  (It was a knee high dog, not a big’un.)

 

I threw my cart this way and that, trying to fend it off, but it got me in the back of the knee and blood started to run down my leg.

 

By this time, three drivers in cars and a man on a motorcycle recognized that I was in peril and they all rushed to my aid.  The motorcycle rider came alongside the dog and tried to kick it, which sent it barreling into a yard momentarily.

 

I waved my thanks to the people who had stopped to help out and started down past the dogs, but the black and white cur ran back out onto the side of the road and headed for me again, so the motorcycle rider interviened again, as did the auto drivers.  I mean, I had an army of good Samaritans hot on that dog’s heels, and  don’t even want to imagine what could have happened if they hadn’t done that on my behalf, because that dog was hellbent on biting me again.  I had never seen it before and hope never to see it again!

 

By now, blood was running down the back of my leg, but not in a major way, so I knew I wasn’t badly mangled because I’m on blood thinners and had the bite been worse, I would have bled all the way to Dale’s and Crystal’s. But by the time I got to their gate and called to have them let me in — reporting that a “f—–g” dog had bitten me — the blood had stopped dripping for the most part.

 

Mother Hen Crystal and Papa Rooster Dale got me all cleaned up with soap, water and Neosporin, and dear sweet Daisy, their adorable little black and white dog, decided that TODAY was the day she was going to jump onto my lap and let me pet her!  (What a privilege!!!) I’m sure she did it to console me, since Dale and Crystal were behaving like I was perhaps in my last moments of life!

 

LOL!!! (That’s a massive exaggeration, but they were concerned!)

 

Crystal got onto the phone immediately with retired nurse Jon Graham Mitchell to report that I had been bitten, and he said he’d get to the feria as soon as possible so he could check the damage and decide if what I called a “superficial” wound was as unserious as I insisted it was.  (It didn’t hurt at all, but it did look pretty unsightly.)

 

(It wasn’t superficial, but more on that later. Don’t panic! All’s well that ends well, and this ended well!)

 

Dale, Crystal and I rode to the feria

 

Jon and Francisco arrived just minutes after we did and both said in unison, “That’s not superficial.” (I guess in medical terms, anything that breaks the skin is not considered superficial???)

 

I kidded with them, “Hey, I grew up on a ranch. In my world, unless a bone is hanging out of the skin, it’s all superficial!” Jon and Francisco got a big kick out of that! (I believe I have to thank Lisa for the jest, though! I recall her saying something akin to that a time or two!)

 

So everyone waited a bit while Francisco walked me to the first aid station to get a roll of gauze to wrap my leg with so insects and germs couldn’t get to it while we were there.

 

When we got back to our starting point, we all did our things at the feria and then Jon drove Crystal, Francisco and himself to our lunch spot — a new one for me named Sazon Nica (a Nicaraguan restaurant) — while Dale and I took a cab.

 

SAZON NICA RESTAURANT IMAGES

 

We got to the restaurant and I took scads of photos there because it was gorgeous (and because Crystal wanted pix of the foliage that  surrounded the place).

 

The food was sensational, the ambiance fabulous. (We ate at an outside table with a gentle breeze blowing to keep us cool.) But I fear that dear Francisco spent most of his lunchtime trying to make my recalcitrant What’sApp program pinpoint where I live so Uber could take me home afterward.

 

What a patient, sweet guy.  Truly!

 

 

As we finished up our lunchtime, Jon said, “Far be it from me to tell you what to do about your dog bite, but I do recommend that you go from here straight to Clinica Sanchez and have someone look at it to see if you should go on antibiotics for a while.”

 

I agreed and said, “You got it, Jon. You’re the pro here. I’ll follow your orders!”

 

So I paid my bill, texted for an Uber, and within 10 minutes

 

…I was at the clinic getting checked out.  The doctor said he’d write me a prescription for antibiotics for a week, and he gave me instructions about how to take them, what to watch for and to do if the wound started to look infected, etc.

 

Then he sent me to their nurse to clean, sanitize and bandage it again.  After that, I walked a few steps to their pharmacy and got the antibiotics and another tube of Neosporin (so I can give Dale’s back to him) and paid my bill, which was a whopping $70 total (if that!) for an immediate prognosis, personalized care and a prescription.

 

(Yeah, I’m loving the health care system down here,

where care is the guiding light,

not soaking sick and injured people. 

What would a dog bite visit

have cost in the U.S?

I don’t even want to think about it.)

 

After I finished there, I called another Uber and was back home by 3:33 (De time!), so I took my first antibiotic pill then and will take them every twelve hours for seven days.  I have a tetanus shot onboard already and rabies isn’t a thing in this district (the dog looked and acted damned healthy to me, anyway!), so there are no worries in that regard.

 

All’s well that ends well.  I just have to carry a big stick (and maybe mace or bear spray) when I walk from now on.  I don’t want to encounter any more snapping dogs, if I can help it!