I’ve had a short fuse all week, and I’ve been feeling like shit. All I’ve wanted to do is sit on the couch and watch baseball. I had one of those “Doh” moments this morning on my bike ride that forced me to realize last Saturday’s dog attack had traumatized me far more than I had realized.

I’d been riding for an hour, and was noodling through the neighborhood near home, not particularly fast, when I spotted a big grey dog in a front yard to my right. The dog’s owner was out with him, but he had no collar on, and he bounded into the street to check me out. He seemed totally friendly, but my heart was nevertheless in my throat. I hit the brakes, unclipped from my pedal and stopped dead in the street to face off the dog. The guy called the dog back into his yard, but I told him I wouldn’t start riding again until he had ahold of the dog so it wouldn’t chase me.

So I’m traumatized far more than I realized by the sudden violence of the attack, and by the continuing reminder of Sadie moping around the house (she’s better, but she’s still kind of a bloody mess). We take her to the vet today to get the drain out. Lissa said she could take care of it, but I really wanna go.