Estaba mordido por un perro

I learned that phrase today and experienced yet another "first" in Spain. Estaba mordido por un perro. Kristian and I decided that today was the day we would explore a road that we've seen from our perch up at the castle. An enchanting road that leads out into the countryside, passing a crumbling old ruin, farms and flocks of grazing sheep. We set out and followed a road that led up and out of town. As we neared the top of a stretch of road we entered a small residential area and suddenly all around us the air was filled with the sound of barking dogs. It seemed that for every house there were about twenty-five dogs - though we could only see a few here and there behind fences, on balconies, and I commented to Kristian that our presence must be something of an anomaly in those parts. Ahead of us there was the most enormous German shepherd enclosed on a balcony. As I pointed him out I heard the sound of racing paws behind me. All the rest happened in a split second. I turned slightly, saw a large white dog and a small black and white dog running toward me. I turned away thinking I should just keep walking. Don't show fear, Deborah. Dogs can smell fear! But almost the moment that they reached me they had turned away and were racing back towards home. But not before I felt a sharp stinging pain just below my left knee. I turned to Kristian, perhaps a little stunned, and said "I think it bit me". Then turned away and kept walking slowly forward, the pain stinging and the disbelief making me a little numb and I said "yeah. it REALLY bit me". At this point I was still walking forward, with my back to Kristian and the direction from which the dogs had come. He had to say my name several times to snap me out of it. We found our way to a bench so I could calm down and we could asses the damage. It was a slight puncture wound, but no dripping blood. We had not left the immediate area yet, and strangely now all the dogs were silent and it was eerily peaceful.

The hole the dog made in my jeans

The puncture wounds and subsequent bruising

We decided it would be prudent to go to the hospital. Without knowing where this dog was from, if it had owners or was a stray, there was no telling what sort of strange disease I could have contracted. I was limping slightly, and my jeans rubbing on the wound made it sting something fierce, but we managed to make it back the way we came and along the way decided to pass by the police station first and make a report - a denuncio, as it is called here. First the officer looked at me a bit like "what are you telling this to me for?" but eventually became helpful. I told him where it had happened, what the dog looked like, etc and he told me to go to the doctor and bring back proof of my visit and the description of the injury I had suffered. In the meantime, he said he would go looking for the owner of the dog and find out its medical history. Fair enough.

What the dog looked like in my memory

So I marched off to the hospital and told my story again, estaba mordido por un perro feroz. The hospital was empty as I walked up to the desk and asked to be seen. She took my medical card and my NIE card and ask me a couple of mumbled questions which she then answered herself and told me to go wait outside of door 13.

The empty waiting room

Door number 13

The doctor was very nice, and kept saying how much it must hurt. She asked me if I had had a tetanus shot and since I had, seemed satisfied that nothing more was needed. She dabbed it with a little iodine and told me I should do so again in the mornings and evenings for a couple of days. Then she printed up the report and sent me on my way. Documentation in hand I returned to the police station, where they had kept their word and already had photos on the computer to show me of the suspect. I confirmed that it was the dog in question and they assured me that it had an owner and a regular veterinarian so the chances of it being a disease carrier were slim. In all likelihood the dog was probably as freaked out as I. We learned that it is normally kept in the fenced-in garden, but that the gate had been left open. His sidekick, the big white dog, had looked harmless enough - in fact, it looked like he was chasing after the little dog to bring him back home.

Hypothetical conversation among dogs:

Upon racing back to their garden...

Big dog: Do you know what you just did?!

Little dog: (cringing) I know...

Big dog: You just BIT that girl!

Little dog: I know, I know. It just kinda happened. I'm totally freaking out!

What the dog really looked like (more or less)

 The adventure continues in Spain. And next time I go walking, I'm bringing a big stick.