December 19, 2006
My dog is lying on the bed with me while I read. I reach over to pet her and she growls. Before I know it, she’s bitten my finger and it’s actually bleeding. Surprised, I apply alcohol (to the wound, not to me), and wonder what I did. I must have surprised her, or literally rubbed her the wrong way. She’s usually so gentle and loving, loves being petted. I wish dogs could talk sometimes. Then she could tell me what I did wrong. It still aches this morning, a reminder of my mistake, but it could have been worse.