The dog, a doctor, and a young man from Monaghan

WordSmith

Gerard Smith

The road was icy, I traversed it carefully. It was morning and the rising sun was struggling to start its thaw. When the dog saw me, I sensed trouble and stopped. This dog sensed some kind of something in myself, for they (I didn’t get its gender), stormed towards me. I remained still and allowed it smell me; they always start with the shoes and work their way up, I allowed its sensory assessment of me with a wary stance. “Good dog,” I said, hoping the calm in my voice would convince the animal I wasn’t a threat. It didn’t, they growled aggressively as I attempted to walk away.

I stopped once more to allow them more sniffs, hoping they might take a liking to me. But no, this dog did not like me. Self-preservation kicked in: Stay passive, no eye contact, furl your hands into fists to protect fingers. It worked, the dog had its final sniff and snook off. Then as I walked away, the sneaky snoot took me by surprise and sunk its teeth into my leg.

It hurt; the stabbing-sting suggested my skin was punctured. My first thought was the dinner I had planned with friends was over, replaced with a four-course A&E visit, starting with: an interminable wait, injection, dressings, and antibiotics for desert. However, when I rubbed my calf and felt no immediate bleeding, I told myself I’ll be okay and decided to forget about it. I made like that old meme ‘Keep Calm and Carry On.’ I sauntered on in tetanus-injection-denial.

But when blood began to seep down my leg, I suspected my dinner plans were changed. I was on a rural road in the midst of a big freeze, berating myself for being bitten by a dog. Crouching down I lifted my trouser leg and winced; for I saw the wound needed attention. And while still on my hunkers I became aware of another beast sidling up beside me; its considerable bulk and heavy breathing caused me to rise slowly.

I looked up to see one of those huge tractors with stairs up to it. The cabin door swung open, “Get in,” boomed the driver. I climbed in and was greeted by a young lad. He must have sensed my distress because he instinctively asked, “Are you alright?” Feeling my trouser leg seeping wetter and warmer, I said, “I’ve been bitten; but I’ll survive.”

The lad bantered away; and to my shame I found myself only half listening, because my head was burdened by the bloody bite. Then in adrenaline fuelled delirium, I began babbling about my English accent, “I know I don’t sound like I’m from Cavan, but I am…” And then I babbled about his, “But you don’t sound like you’re from Cavan...”

With a steady eye on the road he answered, “I’m from Monaghan.”

Approaching traffic lights at a cross-roads near Cavan Town I saw sense and shut up, I asked, “Where were you going?” Still with his eye on the road he said, “Ballyhaise, to pick up a trailer.” That’s when I realised this young man from Monaghan had selflessly gone out of his way to help me; while I selfishly jumped in for a lift I didn’t have the courtesy to ask for. And as I jumped out my mind was so mired I’m not sure I communicated my gratitude adequately – so I’ll come back to him.

But before that, come with me to get jabbed. By chance I recalled a walk-in clinic had opened on Cavan’s main street, so I diverted away from A&E and decided to try Doctor 365. I explained my situation to the lady on reception who gave me a form to fill in, and within 10 minutes the Doctor called my name. She assessed me and saw to the wound. She could see I was nervous (I hate needles), her bedside manner put me at ease before the jab.

And the price was excellent given the super-service I received. I left the clinic calmed and with the peace of mind that comes from knowing I was protected; moreover, I even made my dinner-date. I highly recommend Doctor 365.

As I left with my newfound calm my mind turned back to the young man. Monaghan’s our neighbour, and the young tractor man (he spoke proudly of his work for a beef-farming firm), was the epitome of ‘Good-Neighbourliness.’ He saw an older man in need and didn’t hesitate to help. If by chance the young man from Monaghan reads this, I want him to know he demonstrated the very best of humanity, and his selfless kindness was a healing-balm for me.