Bitten, Part 2

A month after I was attacked, the dog’s owner, Kathryn, appeared at my front door. I had thought it odd to not hear from her sooner—she is, after all, a very nice person. It turns out she didn’t know who her dog attacked. After another neighbor told her my story, she came bearing flowers and profuse apologies.

I was grateful for her kindness.

The night of the attack, the police didn’t interview me in the ER until after they had secured the dog and had conversations with the owner and Animal Control. The investigating officer told me that Kathryn would be charged criminally for what her dog had done and would have to go before a judge (for a fine, I presume). That bit of information surprised me, but I think Kathryn was even more surprised when she reported to the Police Department the next business day.

She handed an officer the paperwork she had been issued, mentioned that her dog had escaped, and the next thing she knew, her hands were up against the wall and her legs spread-eagle for a pat down.

“I said my dog escaped!” she told the officer, “Not me!”

Perhaps the officer thought she was turning herself in after escaping from some place (jail? mental hospital?) and had to ensure she didn’t have a weapon. Or maybe that’s normal procedure for a criminal charge. I don’t know. But then they took her to an area that held other offenders, got her fingerprints, and explained about going to court. Pretty serious stuff. I guess when you receive a criminal charge, the police treat you like a criminal.

Not exactly a stellar day for Kathryn, but likely better than the painful days I’ve experienced since her dog tried to eat my leg.

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