A few weeks ago, a dog bit me. I was walking around my neighborhood at night, as I often do, talking to my mom on the phone, also as I often do, when the bite occurred. The dog, a stupid little Shih Tzu/Lhasa Apso type thing, calmly walked away from the little girl who was walking it without a leash, approached me, stood up on its hind legs and, putting its paws somewhere around my knee, leaned in and--chomp--sank its teeth into my calf hard enough to draw blood and leave a bruise. Since it was a small dog and totally calm and not frantic or enraged, I can't say it was the worst pain I ever felt, but I can say since it was a small dog and totally calm and not frantic or enraged yet still it bit me with absolutely no warning at all, it made me something I never thought I'd be: nervous around dogs.
I love dogs so much. Like, so so much. I know people say that all the time, and I'm not claiming to love dogs more than other people who say they love them, but when I say I love dogs, it's like, you know how people will turn and look at a boy or girl they thing is cute when they're driving or walking or somehow passing by? That's me with dogs. Truly, dogs are one of my greatest loves, and I could go on and on, but I won't. I'll just say that for forty-five years and ten-and-a-half months, I never felt scared or nervous around any dog at all. Last week, though, when my Virgo and I were walking home from Trader Joe's and another tiny little thing calmly approached me, this time on a leash, I froze.
He's really nice, his owner said. He just wants to say hi to everyone because he's so friendly.
It didn't matter what the dog's owner said, though, or that for forty-five years and ten-and-a-half months, no dog had bothered me or scared me at all, or even that this dog was even smaller than the one that only drew a little blood. When that dog came over, I got all panicky inside.
Talk about crazy. One small incident with minimal blood affected me so much that it undid the way I'd been my entire life. Not just crazy, but upsetting, too, because of course I still love dogs the way I always have, but now that love is no longer unfettered. Now that love comes with strings attached; it's been altered to come with baggage, with fear.
I hate that I was afraid of that dog, I said to my Virgo when we walked away.
I know, I saw you freeze up when it came over, he replied. But it's understandable after what just happened to you.
Understandable or not, I hate feeling that way inside.
***
One thing I was absolutely positive of when I was married was that my ex-husband would never cheat on me. He loved me so much, and he was such a loyal guy, I knew there was no way that would ever happen. Not in a million. Plus, when I started seeing C after my ex and I agreed on an open marriage, he got so upset and for so many years not only couldn't forgive me but used it as a weapon in any and every fight, I knew there was no way he'd ever do or have done the same to me. I knew that in my marriage, I was the one branded with the big scarlet A while my ex-husband sported shiny, unblemished skin
except
there was that morning I found out my ex-husband used to fuck my best friend and that time I found out he started making out with my sister when I was pregnant with my second son and even that time just a year or so in when I woke up to find him having cybersex with some girl on AOL who, after I confronted her, told me he'd gone to her house and kissed her, and now that I know those things, maybe the time when I found out he went out to lunch with some girl from work after he lied about doing something else, and, really, who could ever be sure of what else other than the fact that after loving dogs unfettered and unafraid for forty-five years and ten-and-a-half months, a small stupid dog calmly sank its teeth into my leg and now when I'm near a dog, I'm genuinely afraid?
