We got a call today from Tom’s sister saying she was on her way to the hospital because her son, our nephew, was bitten – in the face – by a dog. We met everyone there, our nephew, his parents and their significant others. Our poor guy was in pain but so, so, so strong. It was a good sign when his first question was, “where’s the remote?”. He didn’t talk much, just mumbled his needs, which weren’t many. He was patient and cooperative and wanted to laugh at the goofy adults surrounding him but that hurt too much. He mostly just stayed glued to the cartoon network kindly shooing people away that got between him and the t.v.
The dog owner stopped by. A good person. He filled out the requested paper work. The dog’s shots were up to date. And before he left he asked in the most quietest of voices, “Can I apologize to him?” He was sincerely sorry and my nephew mumbled, “It’s okay.” And the owner said, “No, it’s not okay.” Ugh, I had to hide my tears. The man so sorry, and the boy so strong. Too much for my emotions to handle.
My nephew will see a plastic surgeon in the morning. They will open the office on a Sunday in the middle of a long weekend to get him all fixed up. For now he is resting comfortably at his dad’s house. I’m so sorry this happened to him. We love you guy.
