Chloe, our beagle, bit me
when I was ten. I had placed
her food in her dish, then
reached out to pet her.
She growled. I saw what was
coming, turned to get away.
She slashed my hand, deep.
My father, dressing the wound,
did not blame the dog, did
not realize how stunned
I was that my good intentions
had been misunderstood.
It was a lesson that has served
me well on many occasions.
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How many hands have I bitten? When I remember, I try not to interpret peoples' behavior because I've found that when I interpret, I'm often wrong.
ReplyDeleteIt helps me to remember what road to what destination is "paved with good intentions."
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