Maxhole the dog shit all over our truce yesterday.
He was on the couch being disgustingly adorable when I decided to kneel on the floor and give him some lovin.’ I whispered sweet nothings into his floppy ears, a conversation I’d never be caught dead saying:
-Max is the sweetest boy.
-Who’s auntie’s little baby?
-I love-a, love-a, love-a you.
And then he whipped his head around and bit me in the face. IN THE FACE. This was no playful nip. This was “I’m going to eat your face and laugh at your tears.” I went into shock. Not the kind of shock when you witness a horrible car wreck or somebody gets shot right in front of you. This was a hurt shock. “But, but… I thought we were buddies” kind of shock.
Maxhole knew immediately that he’d done some BAD shit. He’s mom’s baby but so am I. She smacked him on the nose and he jumped off the couch, growling at me. He slinked off to his crate looking like a deranged hyena. Mom slammed his crate door. He looked at me and huffed like it was my damn fault he bit me.
At first I didn’t think he’d latched onto my face enough to really hurt me. And then I started to bleed. Nothing big but he bit me in four places underneath my bottom lip. It just looks like I broke out in perfectly symmetrical zits.
I spent most of the day holed up in my room. My feelings were hurt. Mom has to remind me-almost daily-that Max is a dog, that his bite was nothing personal. Of course I take it that way. We were buds before he bit me. I even replayed it in my mind, wondering what I did wrong. Was I leaning against his feet while petting him? Earlier in the day He lunged and tried to bite my 7 year old niece but she was quick enough to jump back. Later in the evening he tried to bite my brother. Then again, my brother had a couple rum and Cokes so he probably thought it was hilarious.
How could Maxhole attack me? I shared a cookie with him. I even let him lick the coffee out of my mug. Maybe coffee is like PCP for dogs. Maybe I’m lucky he couldn’t climb on the roof and scream/bark “I can fly!”
Dogs are dogs. They don’t plot and plan like humans. Or cats. Maxhole must’ve thought “I’m over this shit!” when he bit me.
He didn’t come near me last night and I ignored him, sitting up in my room watching Dexter. But I gave him my empty coffee mug this morning. I think if he knew how to talk he wouldn’t apologize. He’d say “Move faster next time, bitch.”