the plot coagulates
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Toronto, 2004.11.02
I think I'm going to have to call this my "year of the dog". This year I spent more time in the company of a dog than I have in the past five years put together. And then there was the dog attack incident last week. Whereas last night I saw the owners from that attack, tonight I ran into one of the women who was attacked (and her animal, also a victim).
She told me that her bites had become infected, and is going to send me some photos (I gave her the first of my new cards so she could get in touch). More worringly, though, the other woman's bites have resulted in loss of sensation in her hand. Perhaps the bites did nerve damage. I don't know.