To Bite the Hand that Feeds You.

I love my dog.
I still do.
Despite everything she had done.
The first time
it was my foot.
The second time
occurred just minutes ago.
320am.
An eerie scream filled through the night.
From a distraught pet owner.
To bite the hand that feeds you.
Or arm, to be exact.
Arm in bandages.
Blood dripping down
proving me human.
I cried not once.
What for?
It has happened before.
Numbness.
In the mind
and in the arm.
Freak accident.
Misunderstanding on both parts.
Resulting in one hurt
and one now banished
and unloved.
Of course I forgive.
Of course I foolishly take all blame.
I love this dog too much.

pearlyn wonders how she will go to school tomorrow, looking as if she spent the night on kamikaze war duty. or rather, looking as if her arm was on war duty.