I knew I should have went to the gym today.
I got up early enough. I was motivated but something in my head said “nah, it’ll be fine.”

Instead, I slept in and went to the park.
It’s still a little chilly here but bright. It’s beautiful.
But, I know I burn more calories at the gym. The sweat tells me so.

Anyways, I was just walking along.
Being a park, there are generally quite a few dog walkers.

There was this one lady. She looked younger then me and about a head shorter. Two dogs were leading her. One was a mid-sized black dog. The other was huge. It was probably over 100 pounds and had German Shepard looking body with a Basset Hound head. It had wrinkles on it’s forehead and long floppy ears.

It kept pulling her towards me. So, I asked if I could pet it. Maybe it would help her regain her balance. These dogs were walking her. She was having a hard time controlling them. Besides, I like dogs.

But, apparently, this one liked me. A lot.

I later found out the dog’s name was Sammy. He was a rescue dog and Chelsea, the girl being walked had only had him for about a year. Overall, he’s a good dog, had his shots, and gets along with just about everyone despite his abusive upbringing.

Chelsea was telling me all this as tears streaked from underneath her large and cheap looking sunglasses. Dark brown with a gold line on the top.

Meanwhile, I was putting pressure on my arm with some McDonald napkins she gave me because I was bleeding.

Sammy took a chunk out of me.
That was the ‘ only ‘ time I’ve ever been bitten by a dog.
Cats, sure, but not a dog and definitly not a big dog.

We kind of came to an agreement.

I have her name, phone, and license plate number.

If I become infected or something happens, I will call and text her.
But in the mean time, Sammy will continue to live although she promised to get him a muzzle and not allow him to go around children.

Personally, I’m not sure about this agreement but it seems fair — providing she holds up her end of the bargin.

So, I slow walked back to the truck and went home, cutting my outing short by several hours.
Some Neosporin and a Band-Aid later, here I am. My arm is still stinging and I think I’m still bleeding a bit.

A month ago, my doctor kind of forced a booster shot on me. It has stuff in it that I scoffed at. Booster shots are for babies, right?

Well, maybe it’s a good thing I got one. Who knew?