Man's Best Friend
Man's best friend
My friend had a dog once, named Simba. He was an Alsatian, the kind they use in the police force.
I was always jealous she had a dog. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted a pet dog, more than anything. But every time I asked I would get the same excuses “No, we can’t afford one,” “It’s cruel to keep a dog in the city, if we lived in the country we would buy you one,” and my favourite, the biggest lie of all, “Your father’s allergic to fur, so we can’t have a dog.” The real reason I was never allowed one was simply because my parents didn’t like them. They saw them as vicious and unpredictable dirty animals.
So I was ecstatic when my friend’s parents were going away on holiday for two weeks and because my friend had a full time job they asked if I would look after the dog during the day. I said I would love to without hesitation.
On June 15th I had looked after Simba for a week already. That was the morning. Like usual I unlocked the front door of my friends house and I stepped into the familiar surroundings, and was greeted by the same familiar bark. As Simba jumped up, front paws pressed into my chest, I rubbed behind his ears. “Good boy, come on Simba. Who’s hungry? You want some breakfast?” I cooed over the dog, as though he was a child! As though this dog had the same feelings and understandings of a toddler.
I stepped into the kitchen and routinely took the tinned dog food from the cupboard and poured it into the metal dog bowl. The Alsatian happily ate the contents quickly, leaving the bowl almost empty as soon as I set it down. I walked back out into the living room to switch on the TV when I heard a low growl behind me. I spun round to suddenly find myself faced with Simba leaping towards me, both paws pressing into my chest, this time forcefully. The wind was knocked out of me as I slammed onto the hard wood floor and a quiet groan escaped my lips. When I opened my eyes, still unable to catch my breath I realised how Simba, now with all four paws on chest, was baring all his teeth. Panic suddenly ripped through my whole body, rooting me so I couldn’t move my arms in protest.
Within seconds Simba pressed his teeth into my cheek, ripping my skin and spilling blood onto the floor and into my mouth. The salty taste of the blood knocked me sick, and the rusty smell made me nauseous. But those feelings which settled in my stomach, those lasted for a mere second. They were replaced instantly by the unbelievable shock of pain. It was unbearable. If you could imagine a knife slashing across half of your face, I don’t think you would be close to the pain. No, but if you could imagine the teeth of an animal ripping and shredding your skin and muscle apart, then you’d be closer. But unless you had suffered extreme pain before, I doubt you could imagine it.
The next few hours are blank. I blacked out until my friend came home at one o’clock to find Simba lay next to my body licking the blood which dripped off my face. My ruined face. From what I gather, I was sent straight to the hospital, Simba straight to the dog pound. I was put on painkillers, they were heaven! They numbed my whole body so I couldn’t feel anything and left me dazed and confused enough to forget what had even happened to me.
I left the hospital after two weeks. I had extensive surgery and skin grafts to try and restore my face. I was permanently scarred. If I ever caught a glance of myself in a mirror I would wince at the sight of myself. If I raised my hand to touch my once slender cheeks I would recoil. Beneath my soft fingertips I felt the disgustingly raised skin, thick and hard, and I could picture the red raw colour streaked down my face. If I raised my hand further up to my left eye, and gently touched the lid, I would confirm it was still trapped shut by those fresh scars.
I’m not jealous of people with dogs anymore.
Now I am jealous of people with smooth skin, soft to the touch. I’m jealous of people who can open both eyes and take in every detail of the world around them. I’m jealous that they can have someone look them in both eyes and tell them “You’re beautiful.”
My friend, she doesn’t have a dog anymore.
I was always jealous she had a dog. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted a pet dog, more than anything. But every time I asked I would get the same excuses “No, we can’t afford one,” “It’s cruel to keep a dog in the city, if we lived in the country we would buy you one,” and my favourite, the biggest lie of all, “Your father’s allergic to fur, so we can’t have a dog.” The real reason I was never allowed one was simply because my parents didn’t like them. They saw them as vicious and unpredictable dirty animals.
So I was ecstatic when my friend’s parents were going away on holiday for two weeks and because my friend had a full time job they asked if I would look after the dog during the day. I said I would love to without hesitation.
On June 15th I had looked after Simba for a week already. That was the morning. Like usual I unlocked the front door of my friends house and I stepped into the familiar surroundings, and was greeted by the same familiar bark. As Simba jumped up, front paws pressed into my chest, I rubbed behind his ears. “Good boy, come on Simba. Who’s hungry? You want some breakfast?” I cooed over the dog, as though he was a child! As though this dog had the same feelings and understandings of a toddler.
I stepped into the kitchen and routinely took the tinned dog food from the cupboard and poured it into the metal dog bowl. The Alsatian happily ate the contents quickly, leaving the bowl almost empty as soon as I set it down. I walked back out into the living room to switch on the TV when I heard a low growl behind me. I spun round to suddenly find myself faced with Simba leaping towards me, both paws pressing into my chest, this time forcefully. The wind was knocked out of me as I slammed onto the hard wood floor and a quiet groan escaped my lips. When I opened my eyes, still unable to catch my breath I realised how Simba, now with all four paws on chest, was baring all his teeth. Panic suddenly ripped through my whole body, rooting me so I couldn’t move my arms in protest.
Within seconds Simba pressed his teeth into my cheek, ripping my skin and spilling blood onto the floor and into my mouth. The salty taste of the blood knocked me sick, and the rusty smell made me nauseous. But those feelings which settled in my stomach, those lasted for a mere second. They were replaced instantly by the unbelievable shock of pain. It was unbearable. If you could imagine a knife slashing across half of your face, I don’t think you would be close to the pain. No, but if you could imagine the teeth of an animal ripping and shredding your skin and muscle apart, then you’d be closer. But unless you had suffered extreme pain before, I doubt you could imagine it.
The next few hours are blank. I blacked out until my friend came home at one o’clock to find Simba lay next to my body licking the blood which dripped off my face. My ruined face. From what I gather, I was sent straight to the hospital, Simba straight to the dog pound. I was put on painkillers, they were heaven! They numbed my whole body so I couldn’t feel anything and left me dazed and confused enough to forget what had even happened to me.
I left the hospital after two weeks. I had extensive surgery and skin grafts to try and restore my face. I was permanently scarred. If I ever caught a glance of myself in a mirror I would wince at the sight of myself. If I raised my hand to touch my once slender cheeks I would recoil. Beneath my soft fingertips I felt the disgustingly raised skin, thick and hard, and I could picture the red raw colour streaked down my face. If I raised my hand further up to my left eye, and gently touched the lid, I would confirm it was still trapped shut by those fresh scars.
I’m not jealous of people with dogs anymore.
Now I am jealous of people with smooth skin, soft to the touch. I’m jealous of people who can open both eyes and take in every detail of the world around them. I’m jealous that they can have someone look them in both eyes and tell them “You’re beautiful.”
My friend, she doesn’t have a dog anymore.