I loved Penny the spaniel. But after she bit my partner’s face, how could I trust her with my son?
I was 10 weeks pregnant when our four-year-old spaniel, Penny, bit my partner on the face. The bite punctured his bottom lip and spattered blood, slasher-style, across the hallway mirror. The amount of admin that follows a dog bite is surprising. There is the immediate: mopping up the blood; tending to the wound; deciding you don’t think it needs stitches. Then you put the kettle on, wipe away the tears, check on the dog, now cowering upstairs, because, despite what has happened, you love her.
You realise you can’t keep the incident to yourself so you draft a message to the family WhatsApp, to the dog walker, to your boss. You call the vet for advice. You Google “tetanus jabs” and “how long do scars take to heal?” and, tentatively, “rehoming centres near me”.
