Almost two years ago, I was exploring my town on a morning run. As I rounded a corner, I saw two guard dogs looking scary. I froze, averted my eyes and started slowly backing up (because showing fear and moving just felt so right). Out of the corner of my, I could see the black mass running toward me. I had enough time to yelp and escalating "No No No!" and then a loud and memorable "Somebody help me!". I covered my face as the dog jumped up and bit me under the armpit. Rabies shots, holes in my tank top and sports bra and two measly little scars should be I have to remember the incident.
In reality, the morning made a big impression on many people and has stayed with me like a freckle. The skeezy, rich owner frequently asks me if I want to be his girlfriend. Yonny, a politician with guard dogs, tile floors and a fancy gold watch, is the depiction of the wealth discrepancy of town. The second reminder of the fateful morning comes when I am referred to as "That little American who screamed in English when Yonny's dog bit her"! It was quite surprising to everyone that if I were to ask for help in a shriek, I wouldn't have used the right language. And finally, I moved into a house that shares a back corner with Yonny and his dogs. This would not matter too much if the dog didn't stand at the corner barking and pawing at the zinc fence. One day, she was so persistent, it actually seemed possible that she was going to eat me, despite the obvious barrier. When I leave town, I plan to have some sort of ceremony saying bye to the dog. I will no longer have to run with a stick, tell the story or answer questions about what "Somebody help me!" means and why I wouldn't have just said it in Spanish. Maybe I'll even buy her a present, like a hunk of meat, a bedazzled collar, or a chain!
I was bit by a dog in Honduras in 2001. I remember I was approaching a little homestead dug into a monuntainside with the unfortunate effect that anyone who approached appeared big and menacing as they came from above. The dog really couldn't be blamed, as I suppose living in such circumstances could turn even the most docile pet dog into an uneasy sentinel.
ReplyDeleteI was fortunately spared the precautionary stomach shot since the owner was able to produce a record that it was vaccinated. Still didn't stop me from going back every day for a week just to be sure the dog wasn't developing any symptoms of rabies!
Your writing is refreshing and reveals much more about the culture and your experience than many of the marathon blog posts I've been to slogging through of late.