Bite me once, shame on dog; bite me twice, shame on me

I've been "hanging out" (another story in itself) with one of the two guys I met on match.com for the past five weeks and our relationship has been progressing. Everything's fine and no obvious red flags to speak of until last night when his sponge-girl friend's devil dog, Chloe, bites me on my left thigh. I go into shock. Adrenaline's coursing through me. I don't feel any pain and repeat over and over "I can't believe she bit me" to my guy friend. He tells Chloe's owner. I'm still in shock and I downplay it.

We all have dogs and as responsible dog owners, when a dog bites someone, you reprimand it and not allow the dog near the bite victim. Last night, that didn't happen. My friend proceeded to coax Chloe toward me and "try to warm her up to liking me". Since I'm numb to any pain, I make a fist and allow Chloe to sniff my hand. She growls and bites me a second time! You would think I learned my lesson. Oh, NO! My friend suddenly has a great idea and suggests I give Chloe a treat. That will certainly put devil dog at ease. I hand her the treat as quickly as possible lest she snap my fingers off.

My common sense was screaming "what the fuck are you doing?" in my head but I muffled it out because I was in shock. The shock factor. Obviously, this cuts off all rationality and I was following whatever these two irresponsible pet owners were telling me to do which was making me an ongoing bite victim.

Was Chloe being punished? Hell no! She got a fucking treat from me, a belly rub from my less than bright friend, and her owner just held her and said "no" a dozen times after the fact.

Twenty four hours later, my left thigh is throbbing, the bite mark is red and swollen (circled in ink courtesy of the emergency doc), and surrounded by a growing bruise.

I received a tetanus shot and a week's worth of antibiotics to stave off the bacteria infection. And I'm still pissed that all this happened. What a way to start my Labor Day weekend.