Hair of the Dog

In this case, I am not referring to the folk remedy for a hangover (which involves drinking more of whatever you got too drunk on the night before).

Interestingly, this saying ("hair of the dog that bit you") is derived from a folk remedy for another ailment: werewolfism. I'm not sure what the scientific term is for being a werewolf and I'm too lazy to Google it. But in essence, one of the ways to stop being a werewolf was to simply find the werewolf that bit you, pull out some of his or her hair, and eat it. Voila! No more werewolf. Also, you could roll in dew under the moonlight, or eat some wolfsbane. Un-becoming a werewolf is way easy in comparison to un-becoming a vampire.

But I digress.

In this case, the term "hair of the dog that bit you me" refers literally to the literal dog that literally bit me.

I was walking to my car to go to school this evening. There are a lot of people in my apartment building that have dogs and I can recognize many of them. I don't know any names, but I can still recognize them. The dog owner that owns the vicious bloodthirsty beast that bit me will henceforth be referred to as Wiener Man.

Wiener Man is inconsiderate. He owns three wiener dogs (daschunds for those of you who aren't familiar with the nickname) that are mean. He lets them outside with no leashes on, which wouldn't be so bad if they minded a word he said. But they don't.

A couple of weeks before I drove Sophie halfway to her new home, the Wiener Brigade attacked her. Sophie is a very sweet dog, but very unforgiving to rude dogs. I was surprised that all three wiener dogs survived their attack, because she easily could have fit their entire heads inside her mouth. CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP.

So I was walking to my car. I walk the length of the building on the way to the parking lot, and I pass by the other building entrances. The next entrance up from mine is the door that Wiener Man and the Wiener Brigade use, and today they were out sniffing around when I was walking past.

Wiener Man was by the door, and the path I use is easily 20 feet away, possibly a few feet more. So basically, I was not approaching Wiener Man. I was nowhere near him. I wasn't posing a threat. But the Wiener Brigade came charging at me anyway, as if I were running at them all wielding a hatchet while on fire.

I don't automatically expect a dog to bite me, so I was wholly unprepared for the bite I received. OK, it was more of a nip, and I hardly felt it through my pants. But still, the little rat bastard bit me.

The dog that bit me was backed up by #2 in the Wiener Brigade. I had been holding my sweater, and once Nippy Wiener Dog bit me, I started swinging the sweater around the keep the little fuckers at bay. All the while, Wiener Man remained by the door and called their names (I don't remember their names, as I was concentrating too hard on not kicking them both over them mountains), and they completely ignored him.

I kept walking, turning every couple of steps to swing my sweater at them so they wouldn't nip my heels.  Wiener Man started to move once he saw his two attacking yappers following me. He didn't apologize for the behavior of his assclown dogs or even say a single word to me. That might be the part I'm most angry about.

The dogs were obviously aggressive. Their advances weren't the playful over-exuberance of an excited friendly dog. They were on the offensive.

When I told Jake, he asked why I didn't just kick it.

I don't know why.

Sophie looks like a pit bull. When I lived in Georgia, people would actually cross the street when they saw me walking her. They were afraid of her just because of how she looks. Like I said above, Sophie is the sweetest dog in America (when it comes to people, not necessarily dogs). Her favorite thing ever is to meet and lick new human friends. She has never once in her life gone after a person in a malicious manner. But a lot of apartments gave me a hard time about her because of what she looks like. People are scared of her. I've been asked before if I'm afraid she's going to bite me.

No, I was never afraid.

These awful little crappy wiener dogs charged at me, on the attack, and one actually touched his teeth to my leg. That he didn't break the skin isn't of any import; it's the principle of the thing. What if he had been a little larger? What if I'd been wearing shorts? What if my leg hadn't been my leg but in fact had been the face of a small child? What then? I doubt the Wiener Brigade would differentiate. And it's not like Wiener Man could even call them back if they were running at a small child, because they completely ignored everything he said when they were running at me.

Tomorrow, I'm going to complain about Wiener Man and the Wiener Brigade to the apartment management. I feel like an asshole about it, but I think a dog that bites people needs to have something done about it. If I see him with his dogs unleashed again, I might call Animal Control. Or maybe tha po-lees. I'm going to use Camille as my excuse for being a Cynthia about that dog. "It didn't hurt me but I have a baby to think about!" Shwing.