Ugent Care!: Some times the Dog Bites You.

To set this up a little bit, in a severe lapse of parental judgement, I let my son watch Rambo II early in the week. Lets just say he's never looked at his toy guns the same way.

I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner and trying to keep my dogs from stealing my infant daughter's teething biscuit. They had taken up position on either side of her high chair in a high stakes bet on which tiny arm would toss the biscuit. It would be winner take all. They were waiting for the inevitable moment when she would drop it. I asked Jonathan to make sure they didn't get that biscuit. They had alreay stole 3 this week.

Never one to do anything half way on a normal day, my young Stallone took his responsibility very seriously. I heard him roar in suprisingly throaty, gutteral tone for a four year old, " Alex!" He charged my shepard-mix Alex, who immediately turned tail and ran....right into a corner. (No doubt shocked by the ferocity of his battle cry!) In a panic she, rolled over in submission. Focused on his mission, Jonathan continued the attack and dove head first into Alex's huddle mass. She yelped, bit and ran upstairs to hide. The whole thing took 3 seconds. Before I could put my wooden spoon down, Jonathan was crying and holding his face, with blood streaming between his fingers.

So off we went to Urgent Care. We walk into the lobby, and I am sure we made quite an impression. My son with his lacerated face, me in a dirty shirt and flip flops, Emma covered in Sweet Potatoes and strapped in her carrier and my wife, who had just come from work. I am sure the Nurse on Duty would later comment, "Didn't they looked like a family that would bring their kid in with a dog bite and then blame the kid for it! And what was up with that poor filthy baby?! Fucking Red Necks! Probably had mean dogs in the house to guard their meth lab!"

The Doctor came into the treatment room, at least I think he was a Doctor. He was of Eastern European decent. He looked like a poor man's Luka Kovac from ER, except no personality and apparently no one was on set to tell him how to dress. I was half convinced he had escaped from a gypsy caravan or a used car lot and had just stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Strange shiny dress pants, a maroon shirt with embrodery stitching on the collar and cuffs, and scuffed up brown work-shoe looking things. He walked up to Jonathan and started poking and prodding the cut. No introduction, no words, no reassuring banter with the little patient.

He looked at me in disbelief when I told him the family dog bit my son. I then added, that it really wasn't the dogs fault. After some super glue, antibotics and a $50.00 credit card charge we were on our way. He quickly went to the next treatment room. I sure he was thinking, "How many filthy hill jacks do I need to treat before I can return to my mother land?"

Whatever Luka, don't they have dogs in Bosnia?