The Week Rose Red's Dog Bit Me!
He's the sweetest giant baby of a dog. He loves me, and I feed him tidbits of bacon fat or chicken skin when he happens to be upstairs in my kitchen. He's 80 lbs of pure muscle, and he's quite scary when he's barking at a stranger, but he's never been anything but sweet to me. He knew I was in the room, I'd made eye contact with him and spoken to him with the baby voice I usually use with him when I entered the room. I sat down to sew for half an hour, and then it was time to get the kids up for the day. I spoke to him again, stood right next to him, and scratched the base of his neck. He flinched, snarled, and bit my hand simultaneously. I yelled at him, and he ran into Rose Red's room. I think he knew he'd been bad. But I was bleeding and hurting, and I didn't want to be near him, so I went upstairs to tell Sir Walter Scott and wash the wounds with soap and water. Stitches might have been a good idea for the deepest cut on my wrist because it