So I was at a meeting where sixty of us were packed into a tiny space. Next to me was a woman with a little doggy on her lap (only in France). The dog seemed a little tense during the meeting as it barked at a few people (or ghosts). As everyone stood to say a closing verse about peace and serenity, the dog leaped over and bit me on the leg. Here's what the bite looked like after the cool Coke took some swelling down:
After some newly made friends looked after me, a nice pair of French people came over to ask me to translate something for them (which also involved peace and serenity). Was there a message? As I did so, they noticed I was injured, and they offered to take me to the clinic or fire department. I declined their kind help, but was intrigued with the idea of going to the fire department for help. And I might actually need to do something about the bite.
Previously, a nurse had told me that unless the swelling came back, and the leg got hot, I was probably going to be all right, so we decided to carry on with our plans. As we left the building the nice French folk saw me and indicated to go down the street for the fire department. We obliged to make them feel helpful, but then again, curious, I said "let's actually try and find it, they might have something."
In a few minutes we saw the blue and white fire department sign and entered. There was loud techno/dance music playing and they had a variety of mats and gymnastics equipment in the station. I always wanted to be a fire fighter.
I found a fireman and told him my saga, desperate for attention. We all agreed that little dogs are the worst. No offense Pearl or Rosie. I'm sure you two would NEVER bite someone. He pulled out some disinfectant and Sean asked about his gymnastics equipment, obviously impressed, and the fireman, proud of his station, described their workout, then we headed out.
I kept waking in the night wondering if I was foaming at the mouth. So far, so good.