I don't care how "very very sorry" you tell my kid you are.
When your dog bites someone, you don't just walk away.
You give the kid your name and phone number so his parents don't f***ing worry about rabies.
Hell, you follow him home and make sure he gets there okay.
Here's the thing: a dog on a leash bites a kid on his way home from school. By the time the kid gets home, the dog and its owner have moved along on their walk. Even if Dad calls the cops as soon as the boy gets home, no matter how long the kid and his dad drive around town, the dog and owner are gone.
How do you ever find out if the dog has had its shots?
Sure, the owner knows, and he's just fine knowing everything's okay.
But *I* don't. I don't know sh*t.
Fortunately, it was not a bad bite. We had it checked over.
But when you're a parent, it's bad enough. You know what I mean?
I was in full "momma bear" mode and was ready to remove heads with my own hands for rabies tests... both dog's and owner's... and not necessarily in that order.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008