so my little girl got attacked by the school’s guard dog

It happened Wednesday, but I haven’t felt comfortable enough to write about it until today.  She is fine now. She is a remarkable child. She is blessed and cursed with having a game face. She is the one who did not shed a tear or cry or moan or groan when she broke her arm las year.  I have to study her to determine her actual level of suffering. She is the strong and silent type when I least want her to be.

The school nurse called, I flew over, got her in a wheel chair and hit the gas all the way to the emergency room.  I pulled up to the entrance and carried her past at least six men within feet of me who watched. I started to stumble as I entered the emergency room and everyone just stared at me carrying my little girl. I had major back surgery so I was starting to crumble and still they stared. I yelled for someone to help me, to take her, I shoved her into a man’s arms.

Soon afterwards the school’s administrator joined me “For legal reasons” she explained. I was too overwhelmed at the time to contemplate the legality of the situation. I wanted my daughter taken care of. While on the hospital bed the doctor asked me about the dog, I directed him to the school administrator. For what felt like an eternity they talked while my daughter suffered in pain without any treatment.  I went out to the main counter and asked the staff if they could at least give her some Paracetamol (Tylenol in the US). Again more stares. Damn you robots and your stares!  Back in the room I saw my girls legs start to tremble from the pain so I distracted her with items I brought with me: a drink, a blanket and an electronic game. I was so pissed that I forgot my little pharmacy. I usually carry my own stash of Benadryl, Tylenol etc. which came in handy when she broke her arm last year. I was able to shove one down her throat back then until help came. I was able to do something.

A lady came in with more paperwork to fill out. There were no introductions. Everyone just wanted my national identity number, phone number and address. “Can someone please help my daughter?” I went out a second time to the counter to beg for any pain killer: nothing.  I went back in and took a photo.

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Eventually her wounds were cleaned and she was patched up with some giant cloth like bandaids that kept the wounds closed.  Anything to avoid stitches. I learned that when I came to the same ER (on a previous occasion) with my son’s head cracked open: they glued it shut.  Stitches were the most popular measure of severity of her injuries when asked about the attack.  So if she doesn’t get stitches then she is fine right?

For the next 48 hours our phone rang off the hook.  I checked her for infections. Rabies was not a concern since after all it was the school’s guard dog. O thank goodness. I should be grateful. Yeah, that is some twisted shit right there isn’t it?

Friends and family were outraged by the concept. Yes folks, the school keeps an entire pen of guard dogs, on campus. Yes folks, one of the guard dogs tunneled out during recess and attacked my little 7 year old. Yes folks, my other child knew which of the dogs it was because he had seen it run around on the school’s field before, during school hours.

I am not angry at the dog and neither is my daughter. We have 3 rescued animals. We pet every dog on the street and in Chile, you can’t walk for 5 minutes without encountering a stray.  I have taken my kids for walks around our town and taught them how to behave when approached by packs of wild dogs and even worse, guard dogs. We have been surrounded by over a dozen at a time all barking fiercely and my kids and I knew how to move without provoking them.   The strays usually want some food and  affection. We happily pet and even give belly rubs to all interested.

You see rarely will you find the kind of dog we would define as a “pet”in the USA. There are two kinds here, the ones who are trained to injure you, these are the ones who are fed and sheltered and then there are the tame ones, starving to death in the public eye.

My daughter is healing at a wonderful pace both mentally and physically.  She does cover her ears at the mention of the incident.  When she hears dogs bark she freezes, hugs herself and shakes. I hold her and make her move on. What of the dog who attacked her?  My daughter told the school director she should train the dog. I am proud of her. While others want the dog shot or removed, my daughter sees a good creature who in her eyes did a bad thing. In my eyes though, the dog did what it was trained  and hired by the school to do.

I understand that the dog escaped. I also understand that having guard dogs near children is like having loaded guns near children. Accidents happen.

 

PS

Please take the time to comment on my blog as opposed to Twitter, Facebook, e-mail or in person for that matter. You can do so anonymously here, just grab a generic avatar and a creative pseudonym.  I won’t respond elsewhere: as I noted in the blog entry, too much “craziness”.  Gracias

In Search of “Medium”

fatjeans They called me Miss Piggy as a child and it was not as a term of endearment. I was the chubby kid and now the chubby adult who strategically disguises it behind the right clothing. I make an effort to live a healthy lifestyle however I will not deny myself the good stuff. Keep this in mind whilst I inform you that as per my recent efforts to stockpile, ahem, shop, for my return trip to oh so expensive Chile I found that I am officially “small” now. Those of you who know me are choking on something at this point.
I would first like to thank the lovely people of the Old Navy line of clothing for fast tracking my size from what in the high-end clothing industry is called a size 12 to an ego boosting 4. Coming in a close second are the people who produce Disney attire at the theme parks. As per the employees they stopped selling a size “small” a “while back” leaving me with a “medium” sized t-shirt that will fit on me like a dress much like the starving African child featured in We Are The World Video.
And oh yes, it is my duty as a citizen of these fine United States to fill in the ample space awarded to me by these newfound sizes. As I write this my circulation is being cut off at the waist by jeans purchased in Chile. They must have shrunk in the drier, after all I am still a medium, no wait, I am, by golly a “small”.

Trotando Con 4 Patas

Untitled by GringaDchicureo

Luego de observar los múltiples intentos de suicidarse en la última trotada (Lean mi post – Frogger) decidí encerrar mi adorado cachorro en el dormitorio. ¡Qué alivio! Ahora sí pude planificar una trotada larga mas interesante. Tenía que ser interesante por dos razones: Andaba sin escuchar mis podcasts sobre temas tan excitantes como la ciencia y política y segundo iba acompañada de mi hijo quién logró lavar su Ipod al dejarlo en el abismo, digo bolsillo de sus pantalones.
Bien, fui a la página de Runkeeper y con ánimo tracé un circuito por el pueblo de Chicureo. Una vuelta nítida de 14 kilómetros. Así tendríamos paisaje, negocios y las obras de los canteros para nuestra gira peatonal. El primogénito y yo salimos, encerramos al cachorro y comenzamos la trotada.
“Buenos Días Chocolate”saludamos al pasar a la caseta del guardia. Chocolate es un perro bello quién adoptó a los guardias de nuestra comunidad. Es mas, Chocolate merece un uniforme ya que cuando suena una alarma igual anda con los guardias a revisar. Una vez intentaron deshacerse del perrito al dejarlo en Santiago y días después volvió a aparecer hambriento y con las patas peladas.  Desde entonces Chocolate cobra su pega con alimento de perro .

” Mami el perro.” El perro, me parece,  se inspiró al ver  mi cachorro acompañarme la última vez y como andábamos sin él,  decidió que nos hacía falta el tercer integrante, el de cuatro patas.  Como era temprano por la mañana Chocolate confiaba que el guardia humano podía cumplir sin él, seamos realistas, ni los ladrones madrugan a estas horas. Así que mi hijo y yo partimos para la vuelta a ver cuánto iba durar este trío.

La hora de la verdad llegó al abandonar a la zona de los condominios y pasar a los hogares particulares protegidos por perros y escasamente cercadas.  Los que trotan  ya saben andar con cautela para no levantar las sospechas de los perros guardianes.  Ladran y sacuden las verjas al brincarles encima , todo a nombre de proteger su terreno. Eso es su deber.  Es la pega de la mayoría de los perros, pero no el  de Chocolate.  Chocolate totalmente confundió a los perros de Chicureo.

Chocolate dejó su uniforme de guardia atrás en el condominio y como muchos trotadores guardaba un cambio de indumentaria. Los perros de Chicureo estaban pocos preparados para ver este atleta. Perdí cuenta de cuantos perros salieron a amenazar o saludarnos durante esa trotada. Una y otra vez llegaban a toda velocidad en grupos, de todos tamaños rodeándonos mostrándonos sus dientes hasta que se dieron cuenta que Chocolate andaba relajado…. muy relajado y contento con la vida.

Chocolate, feliz como lombriz, prueba única del “Runner’s High” en el mundo canino culminó sus 14 kilómetros con unas vienesas y nuestra admiración.