Foo!

This was just another one of those things that was bound to happen sooner or later. I suppose back home I never would have said that getting bit by a dog was something that I knew would happen eventually, but with the abundance of dogs running around here in Ukraine and the preventative education we receive during training about how to fend the dogs off and treat a bite in case they snap, I guess I just figured that it was only a matter of time before some random dog sank its teeth into my leg.   

I’ve had unpleasant encounters with animals while exercising before. I ran over a squirrel on my bike once; a beagle ran straight into my bike while I was riding down a country road and I once got nipped by a German Shepherd while running. Wildlife and quickly moving objects just seem to mix like oil and water. Said quickly moving objects don’t see the freaked out or completely unaware animals coming straight at them, and the collisions usually end with at least one of the parties involved getting hurt. 

Nevertheless, it’s always a surprise when a dog lunges at you while you’re running or biking along, especially when you’re listening to music on headphones and wiping liters of sweat from your eyes.  This particular incident occurred yesterday when I was running (slowly) down a road I’ve only gone down once before—a windy gravel road that runs through a small neighborhood situated across the river from my dorm. I like running there because it’s quiet—there aren’t a lot of people walking around and there are hardly any cars, and because if I run far enough, it almost vaguely reminds me of trail running (my most favorite thing ever).  There are potholes to jump over and occasionally the path turns to dirt and gets thinner. Then it takes a big spike uphill and it really reminds me of home—big, leafy trees shade the path as it winds its way up the hill that looks over all of Chortkiv. Usually I just make it to the base of the hill…I’m not in good enough shape yet to run much further (another post entirely). 

So I was running along, getting ready to round the corner of the ruins of the old fortress, when all of a sudden a big dog lunged at me and bit my right knee. He might have barked, I don’t know…I was listening to my running music (ironically I was listening to a Pitbull song. That’ll teach me to mix my guilty pleasures with real pleasures) and I didn’t hear a thing. I was proud of my instincts, though. I jumped back and screamed “Foo!” at the dog, who ran back into his yard. If this had happened back in Kentucky, I would have yelled “Git!” at the dog…so I was pleased to see that my mind thought quickly enough to shout at the dog in Ukrainian, although I’m sure he probably still would have gotten the point either way. 

I ran quickly away, nearly stumbling over a tiny little duckling that was innocently crossing the street on my way. Once I was sure the dog wasn’t following me, I stopped in front of the fortress to inspect my wounds. Just a minor scratch—thankfully the dog’s teeth hadn’t broken the skin. So I kept running, past the fortress, through the rusty playground in front of it, past the house where the Catholic nuns live, down the street, and across the river that takes me back home. There’d be no need to call the Peace Corps Medical Office. At least not today.