Just before the school run, Z and I went out with the scraps for our chooks, where we were met by three dogs, who attacked me when I tried to shoo them away.
It was a day of tears and calls to the police and our local council. PJ came home from work to take me to the doctor, my sister K made me lunch and I received dozens of phone calls to see how I was.
My mum said that I should take some photos, in case I had to press charges. "Mum, I'm a blogger," I yelled, "Of course I've already taken photos."
But I am also rather bashful, and don't feel altogether comfortable posting images of my bitten bottom online. And so instead, here is a pair of friendly dogs that I have used on the poster I have put up around town to help advertise my blog course that starts next week.
ADDENDUM: This could have been a day of ugly clashes, but instead, blame and anger were tethered, so everybody's kind sides could run free. I was about to publish this post, when the young guy whose dog bit me came by to let us know that he has given the dog away to a hunting buddy of his who lives on acreage about an hour away. (He also asked us what beer we drink as he's coming over tomorrow with a slab.)
Blue skies, big sighs.