Recently, I was reminded of God's awesome planning skills--that are much better than mine. My mom and I were driving down to an old friend's house to go see Fun., and we were talking about this old friend. I hadn't seen her in nearly six years--that feels like a long time ago! But, I started talking about what I did remember. The garden in her backyard, her obsession with owls, the fence where our first family dog got his paw stuck into. It was when I was six--over ten years ago--and he was only four months old to our family.
It was a summer day, not a cloud in the sky, hot, sticky, humid. I had just met this girl--a cousin, maybe?--and we were talking on my old family friend's steps. I don't remember what we were talking about, or who this girl really was, I just remember that our new dog was fantastic and that this was a good time. But then, I heard frantic barking. It wasn't a moving sound, like when he was following a person as they walked along the fence, but it was stuck. Stuck, frantic, scary. I walked over, and saw my dog--a beautiful Australian shepherd--and his paw stuck under the fence, his barking loud and aggressive. I walked over, saying, "It's okay, Bear, I'm going to help you! I'm going to help you!"
The next thing I remember, I was sobbing, walking back to the house, screaming for my mother. Adults rushed out to greet me, and I was being dragged to the bathroom. They stuck my small hand under the faucet and were washing the blood off it. Our brand new dog had ripped my hand open. I sobbed as they got ready to apply the soap, pleading: "No! No soap! Please! MOM!" They only replied: "It's foam, see? It won't hurt, we promise."
I remember the next morning, one of the ladies who helped me pulled me aside and cut away the skin that was hanging limp off my hand. She soaked it, and cut it. I asked why, but she didn't tell me. Or rather, I don't remember her saying anything.
This was over ten years later, riding to a concert that I relayed my mom those details. It was significant--this house held a lot of memories of that. Our family friend even kept the wire that had gotten lodged in my dogs foot. Why, you ask? Well, I got some details filled in while I was there.
Mom's additions: She was cooking in the kitchen when I had been bitten, and told me that she was there while I was getting my hand cleaned out. I don't know why I didn't remember her--probably shock. She then told me that the people that were staying at this house--get this!--were actually trained medical emergency professionals. Crazy, right? Had I been at any other house, I would've probably gone to the hospital. But instead, we just stayed there and I was taken care of by people who knew what was up.
Our Family Friend's additions: As I was being taken care of, Lou (her name) was rushing out of the house to handle the dog. She had maybe met him twice, yet was only concerned about him. She raced outside and examined the situation, and then held his paw down so he would stop pulling at it. Then, one wrong tug from Bear and she was attacked--he latched onto her wrist and held tight. She then yelled for her son, John, to come out and help. A few moments later, he was running outside and grabbing onto Bear's jaw, trying to pry it open.
Another CRAZY part of this is that while there were medical professionals, there was also a lady who worked with K9 units for search and rescue teams. This lady came out with John, and undid her belt, looping it and then after John had managed to pry Bear's jaw open, she slipped her belt around his muzzle and pulled tight, preventing any other bites. John then grabbed onto Bear's paw, holding it down.
John's additions: After Lou had been taken care of, they were frantically thinking of where wire cutters were to free Bear. There was a person, though, walking down the street who saw what was going on, and ran to their truck--coming back with a huge pair of wire cutters. In a few moments afterwards, Bear was free, and the craziest, most lucky story ever was nearly complete.
Lou was taken to the hospital, where she was examined. They wanted to put Bear to sleep, but she refused to let them. And thanks to her, we had one of the best family pets in the entire world. He only bit two people in his entire life with us--Lou and myself--and even though we weren't "Mama", he would treat us very differently than he treated anyone else. He would follow us, care for us, be gentle and sit next to us if he could.
He died when I was thirteen, and I was the last person he kissed. I wasn't his favourite, but there was something special. That even happened when I was six, and afterwards, Mom made sure I knew how to respond in an emergency. Nine years later, I was bit in the face by a dog. I was able to take care of myself until the stitches were put in, which not many people would have known how to do. But God won't always provide you with people--instead, he managed to provide me with the mental tools.
One day, that piece of wire that was stuck in his paw will be mine. And I'll remember, every time I look at it, how I was blessed enough to be surrounded by people who knew their stuff. God provides.
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| That small white line is the scar the bite left me--discovered it two years ago! |
Jenn
UPDATE: Everyone, I won't be posting again until July 1, 2013! Have a FANTASTIC rest of the month!!! (:
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