This event involved Stanley, our dog. I had to take him for a walk. At the end, we were passing the local super, where I stopped to get a few things. Stan is familiar w the routine. I tied his leash to a bench, where a Russian woman I know was sitting, reading. It was out of the hot sun. He always barks, once I leave. That is also part of the routine.
I am almost finished, when I hear the loudspeaker say the word kelev. That means dog. That means trouble. I leave the groceries and run to the front entrance. There, the manager is speaking to a man, about 30. First thing I say (in Hebrew) “I don’t speak Hebrew, but what happened. That’s MY dog.”
The young man pointed to his calf, where a small, Stanley-size bite appeared. I couldn’t believe it. NEVER HAS HE EVER BIT ANYONE BEFORE. I peered out the door, and saw him sitting there, the Russian woman still reading. Stanley had his head cocked to one side, his tail thumped happily to see me. He gave me the PETA PUPPY EYES.
The “victim” spoke English, and demanded to see his papers, his vet records, that his vaccines were all in order… FOLKS, HOW MANY OF YOU, WHEN YOUR KIDS WERE SMALL, CARRIED DENTAL CHARTS, REPORT CARDS, VACCINE REPORTS OR CLIPPINGS OF FIRST HAIRCUTS IN YOUR HANDBAG?????? My reassurances were not good enough; he was going to call the police.
I called Yacov, my equally as disorganized partner, quickly giving him the crisis situation, knowing full well he would never be able to find Stanley’s vet records. However, Y came down to survey the damage. He and the guy drove down to S’s vet, who brought his records up on the computer. The guy was being overly-cautious because he was getting married next week, and he had obviously seen the movie, ALIEN, where some little species rips through the guys stomach!!!! OK, I can see his sound fears.