I have a vague memory from my childhood of being in the car with my dad and seeing a dog that had apparently been hit by a car.

It seems like it was on Dulse street, but that’s not important.

The dog was alive, but snarling and snapping at the handful of people who were standing nearby, wanting to help (I imagine) but probably not sure how.

I remember wondering why the people were standing there… not helping?

And my dad, probably fervently wishing that I hadn’t seen the dog, explained to me that you really shouldn’t ever get close to a hurt animal, because the pain makes them really mean, and they will BITE YOU when you try to help.

They don’t understand that you’re being kind… that you’re trying to make it better. They just know that they’re in pain and associate that with you because, well… you’re right there in front of them.

I remembered that years later when I took my own dog to the vet, and my sweet little Schnauzer, who loved me with all the adoration and devotion her little heart could hold, turned and bit me when the vet gave her a shot.

I knew not to take it personally. I knew she didn’t WANT to hurt me.

Wounded animals bite, and that’s just a fact of life.

I have a feeling there’s a lesson somewhere in there…