It was just 10 days ago that a visit to a local dog park nearly ended in tragedy.
You know the story: Two unleashed pit bull mixes came after our little Charlotte, intent on mauling her, but got me instead.
Dozens of you expressed concern and for that I am deeply grateful. I’m happy to say our physical wounds are nearly healed. And I’m optimistic Charlotte will be back to her rambunctious self once she’s back to 100 percent.
A week ago today, I saw a nurse practitioner. She examined the bites around my right elbow, said they appeared to healing on their own with no issues, and submitted a report to the county animal control department. I wasn’t eager to undergo any kind of antibiotics regimen and she agreed it wasn’t necessary. The scab on the most prominent cut fell off earlier this week and I suspect I may have a one-inch scar to show for it.
The following day, we took Charlotte in to see the vet. A day earlier, the day after Thanksgiving, Lori discovered what we had both missed — an open wound near Charlotte’s tail. It wasn’t evident at first because of her black fur and the fact that it had already begun scabbing. Only then did I realize that one of the pit bulls must have bitten her as I was clutching her to my chest, trying to keep her safe from the leaping dogs.
The vet put our little terrier on antibiotics and gave us a soft-cloth cone to put around her neck so she couldn’t reach the wound. All went well for 48 hours. Then, one afternoon as she snuggled at my feet, I noticed a bright red spot and realized sneaky Charlotte had licked the scab off when her cone was temporarily off. We applied an ointment and on went the cone again.
At this point, the wound seems well on its way to being completely healed. Charlotte has a shaved patch near her tail but eventually her fur will grow back.
If I ever encounter the dogs’ owner, I’ll be sure to give her an earful and demand she reimburse us for the vet bill. Pretty irresponsible of her to leave the scene without giving her name and contact information.
(Click on images to view captions.)
Psychologically, the unprovoked attack was upsetting for all of us.
The idea that a romp in the park would turn into 30 seconds of chaos was pretty disturbing. I honestly didn’t know whether either of us would be severely injured. Afterward, I faced the reality that little Charlotte most likely would have been killed if either dog had latched onto her.
Charlotte shivered that night as she laid on our laps. If I’d only known she’d been bitten too, we would have given her immediate medical attention.
In the days since it happened, I think it’s fair to say we’ve only grown closer to Charlotte. Certainly, more protective.
Twice a week when I drive downtown to teach a class at Portland State, my route takes me past The Pixie Project, the animal adoption center where Charlotte was placed after being picked up off the streets.
We will never know what she endured in the first year of her life, but I do know she won’t lack for love or attention as long as she is with us. Our Little Peanut, as we have begun calling her, may be not much bigger than a cat but she may as well as be a St. Bernard when it comes to filling our hearts.