Ouch

Getting bit in the balls can really change one’s outlook on life.

Boomer, a stupid mutt that I walk, has been getting aggressive with me recently when his owner was in the house. He tore at my jacket and made a small rip in my jeans once. His owner brought over someone to work with him on Monday, and I came over to help them out.

The person his owner brought over, Diane I Don’t Know Shit About Dogs, didn’t have a good grip on the leash when she brought Boomer near me to desensitize him. He bit me on my ankle, thigh, and grazed my Voldemorts (You Know Where).

My ball sac quickly went to turtle mode, but it was too late at that point. Ouch.

The experience changed my outlook of my weekend. Up to that point, I had a great weekend:

• Friday: hung out with friends at a bar.
• Saturday: Spent time with my sisters and eat an amazing Iranian meal my Mom made for a dinner party.
• Sunday: Relaxed, read an interesting book (The Victorian Internet).
• Monday: Played with two Jack Russell’s that I adore, got bit in the balls.

Afterwards, this is how I viewed my weekend:

• Friday: Didn’t get bit in the balls.
• Saturday: Didn’t get bit in the balls.
• Sunday: Still didn’t get bit in the balls.
• Monday: Got bit in the balls.

If I had won the lottery on Friday, and someone asked me, “How was my weekend?” I’d say it was a wash.

I’ve had trouble falling asleep this week. I still have a lot of fear and anger about the event. The physical pain was minor, but it was traumatic, and I’m still dealing with it. Also, my balls itch.

You know what’s the worst? The next day, someone at the dog care company I worked for who knew about the visit but not the details emailed me to see how it went. She asked, “How was the dog psychic?”

What? Dog psychic? Are you kidding me? The person wasn’t a dog trainer, but a dog psychic? I remembered a comment the owner made a few days ago about “the dog psychic coming by” this weekend, but I thought she was using a cutesy way to say “animal behaviorist,” not “incompetent loon”. My bad.

I do have some responsibility to ask a person’s qualifications before putting myself in a potentially dangerous situation. But is it that absurd to expect someone whose career is to work with dogs to master THE MOST BASIC RULE OF DOG TRAINING: don’t put someone, especially a stranger, in a situation where he or she can get bitten.

Boomer was lunging at me the whole time. You think her psychic powers would have tipped her off that the dog was in heat-seeking crotch mode.

More than anything, that’s what makes me angry about this situation. The dog was just being a dog, but the “professional” should have known better. On my side, I need to stop worrying about appearing rude or untrusting in situations that affect my health, whether it’s a dog trainer or a doctor.