blood moon

It’s been a while, but sore feet tonight at last, after a decent afternoon outing to the hills with Luna. This time it had been her that was ordered strict rest, after a particularly nasty farewell gift from bloody 2016.

About a month ago, on a Sunday morning my older daughter and I took part in a Santa Fun Run in neighboring Dingwall. Her little sister and her mum had just stepped out of her house, doggy on the lead, when out of nowhere an Akita dog appeared, going straight after Luna, biting her legs and back, trying to shake her dead. It was a chunky, notoriously aggressive dog, that had escaped from where it stayed, a few kilometers away.

It all must have happened very quickly, with the wee one being hurried back into the house and people coming to help chase the attacker away. When it ran off, it only crossed the street and attacked another dog on a lead, and then another one.

Too much gore and chaos for any time of the year, particularly two weeks before Luna’s second birthday, and Christmas. Eventually the police showed up and so did the dog’s owners. They were very apologetic, offered to pay the vet bill and admitted that the same had happened before. Not surprisingly it was suggested that they have to put their dog down, which happened in the meantime.

Soon after big sis and me had returned to the village after our fun run, we took Luna to the only vet available on a Sunday, a good half hour drive away. She had been bitten very badly and did not look in a good state at all. Still, she remained patient during the docs assessment and was off to a general anesthetic swiftly.

We picked her up next morning, sewn back together, limping, but alive. At home, she lay in her bed all day, not eating or drinking. When I came home that evening, I sat with her and stroked her, until she suddenly twitched. I took a look at where I had touched her, and noticed that the vet must have overseen a large wound under her left front leg. So off to our vet the very next morning. Seeing where I pointed to, the nice older lady’s words were “Ah, shiiiiiit, that looks sore!”.


So another general anesthetic, another day at the vets. I picked her up in the evening and even though still in a bad state, she looked a lot happier. The doctor said “She might still be drowsy from the painkillers we gave her.” She also said that the wound turned out to be a lot more serious than it had looked. On the edge of where the skin had been ripped off, a tooth had punctured right through a muscle and the rib cage, stopping just a millimeter before the lungs. Lucky pooch.


I said to the vet that I’d much rather she’s high as a kite, or at least numbed, though drowsy and got them to hand over any kind of pain killers they would give me, I’d much rather she’s high as a kite for a few days, or at least numbed, than in pain and miserable.

For a week she mostly rested and was not up to much, but the appetite came back and also the urge for walkies. The stitches from the six or seven large scars came out a good week ago and slightly longer walks, still on the lead though, were OK again. During those walks I was really relieved, seeing that she was not only physically on the mend, but still friendly to other, unknown dogs. She might well have taken quite a knack from what had happened, but seems like nothing much has changed in terms of sniffing and goofing.


Lastly, no blame on the other dog. For centuries this breed has championed it’s homeland of northern Japan exactly because of it’s very territorial and aggressive nature. You can’t expect an individual one to just “be good”, when the instincts kick in, that’s it.

Every blame though on the owners, obviously if you decide to have a dog like that, you must be aware that it can be a danger to every animal, including humans of all sizes, and have it under control. There’s a reason why for some breeds of dogs, including theirs, insurance is a lot higher, exactly because of the likelihood of something going wrong.

All’s well that ends well and a month on my running pal is back to yapping at rabbits and whatever else she comes across in the woods, while I wheeze and sweat somewhere behind her. Today’s run hurt, not because I’ve been bitten or fell over, but after weeks of happy hibernation, I know walking down the stairs tomorrow morning won’t be fun (I mean for me, the kids probably think it’s a hilarious circus act; might as well put on a clown nose).


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