Going to the Dogs

There's this makeshift sign on my neighbor's gate that warns of his German Shepherd. "Beware of TF Dog," it reads. I don't know about the F word, but where I work, there are days when I feel like spewing unprintables.

Every week, there are at least three dog-bite cases. They range from the usual accidental nip after roughhousing with the pet to the really serious (and possibly rabid). All of them are "accidental," although most could have been easily prevented if somebody exercised a little more responsibility.

Last week, a youngish mother came to the office asking for an anti-rabies shot for her two-year old, who looked as though he needed a really long bath and a really good scrubbing. The boy, it turned out, was bitten twice. On different occasions and by two different dogs.

The first bite the mother dismissed as "minor" and thus did not merit a visit to the doctor. The kid, after all, was "attacked" by the pet after the kid (intentionally) stepped on the tail of the then-sleeping dog. The second bite, which occurred two days later, was a lot more serious: a gash on the right cheek, just a little below the eye. This time, the boy who was supposed to be sleeping, tried to "steal" a new-born puppy from beneath the neighbor's nasty dog.

And where was the mother in the middle of all this? Why, she was happily exchanging juicy news with the neighbor over the gumamela hedge, oblivious to the wrestling match ging on between boy and bitch.

Twice or thrice, we have come across dog-bite cases involving babies. There's this case where the mother left the 10-month-old baby in the "care" of the family dog. And then there's the 20-day-old baby who was nipped in the mouth. The dad, it turned out, placed the baby--mattress and all--on the floor so that he could sleep without worrying that the baby might fall.

Hay naku! If our congressmen will continue to hedge on the RH issue this country might just as well go to the dogs.