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True Terror

I’ve been a fan or horror movies for years-more years than I can remember.  My first horror movie was “Poltergeist” and I watched it with my mom.  She was worried that I would be scared, and that I wouldn’t be able to sleep.  I was fine.

In fact, there have only been two movies/books that got me on edge.

The first was “Jaws.”  The book, not the movie.  I read it as we were going to Myrtle Beach for the week, and needless to say, I was a wreck.

The second was the original “Amityville Horror.” It was a simple haunted house story, but the use of lighting, and the reaction of the actors-let’s just say for a minute I was sure something was on my porch.  Being home alone didn’t help the matter.

And then Easter of 2015 rolled around.  Our house is still a wreck, and when my parents invited us to brunch-we were all stoked.  The brunch we usually go to is wonderful. And it’s always nice to spend time with family.  The kids were looking forward to it, as were Roy and I.

We got up early, and were out the door-ahead of schedule!

Brunch was nice-we ate our fill, talked to my parents and my sister, and then went back to my parents’ house for an Easter Egg hunt.

Now, my sister has a new dog-a beautiful Belgian Malinois (it’s more or less a German Shepherd). He’s still a puppy-10 months old.  This was the first time we’d met him, and the kids all agreed that Reaper is a beautiful dog.

So, my mom is in the kitchen. Roy is outside with my father and my sister’s boyfriend.  Addi is on the couch with the little boys, and I’m in the guest room getting the Easter Eggs ready.

I hear the dog growl, and my head shoots up, and then I hear the most horrifying noise I’ve ever heard-41 years on this earth, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.

Dean screamed and started to cry, and Addi roars, “Get off him!”

My heart stopped. I dropped the candy, and struggled to stand, my knees shaking.  I ran out into the family room to see my mom soothing Dean, and a towel wrapped around his little throat.  The look in his eyes, broke my heart.

“Go get your Dad.” I told Addi and he ran outside.

“He’s bleeding, Chris. Let’s go in the bathroom.” my mom hurried into the guest bathroom.

My mom has always been wonderful in a crisis. Calm, collected and soothing.  She moved quickly.

“Honey, focus.” She told me, and I took Dean’s little face in my shaking hands.

I remember taking a deep breath, “What happened baby?”

Dean struggled to get it out. The dog had a bone, and Dean bent down to pick up his Easter basket-the dog went for his throat.

I told him to just look at me, as I slowly removed the towel.  Ok, I can do this, I remember thinking.

WHERE THE HELL IS ROY?

My mind is shouting, and all I hear is a buzzing. The first few lacerations don’t look too bad, and then I see the puncture marks, and one larger tear on his small throat.

My eyes immediately fill with tears, and I take a deep breath.

“Mom, I’m going to go get Roy.” I walked out of the bathroom on shaky legs. Dean needed stitches, I knew that much.

I stuck my head out and interrupted the three men’s laughter, “Roy PLEASE come here! NOW!”

He ran into the house after me, and followed me to the bathroom.  He took one look at Dean and I saw the fear on his face, “We need to take him to the hospital.”

I nodded and ran to get my shoes and purse, the tears flowing freely now.

“I’ll drive, you sit with him.” I told Roy, thinking this would be the best way to handle it.  Roy is calmer, and Dean didn’t need to be upset. If I focus on driving, I would have ten minutes to get myself together.

I dropped them off at the main entrance and went to park.  I grabbed my phone and called my friend, M.

She listened, told me to take a deep breath and to just concentrate on Dean.  I knew she would, and hearing her voice at least got me going.  We waited about ten minutes for Dean to be called, and let me just say we weren’t real happy with the care he received.

I got to a point, where i just wanted to go home. I figured I would call his doctor tomorrow, and get some answers.

We took him in and sure enough his primary care physician agreed with us-the largest of the lacerations should be stitched up or they simply won’t heal properly.

I had already called a plastic surgeon, who agreed to see Dean if his doctor thought he should be stitched up.

Tuesday we get up bright and early and head to the plastic surgeon’s office. The care we received here was amazing-the office staff was attentive and answered all our questions and the plastic surgeon was wonderful!  She talked to Dean and put his mind at ease, and she did the same with Roy and I.

Our baby went in for surgery that Friday.

To wrap it up-waiting for Dean to come out of surgery was hard.  It took everything I had not to just sit and cry for 45 minutes.  I clutched Roy’s hand, and put my head on his arm, and when they called us back I almost ran to our baby.

In the end, the scars will fade, and Dean seems to worse for the wear.  He’s happy and is showing no fear of larger dogs.

But his scream? I hear it in my head.

THAT is the stuff nightmares are made of…

Dogs family german shepherd Horror Kids parenting
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