Döme is a real mite. But I only call him Worm, he’s just spinning around. Nothing matters to him, not even snow, frost, heat, mountains, or wounds.
This is a short but instructive story about how poorly I handle panic situations.

It happened one day, that we were having our regular evening walk, with full headcount, my husband, the dog and I. And we took the car to go to the dog ground right next to us. What a coincidence… Everything went as usual, the running, the game, I already threw back the ball to the little monster for the seventieth time, and I even improved, since I could/can as well play simultaneously with the other dogs
But suddenly one of the dog masters told me that Döme’s leg was bleeding. It’s important to notice, that I just can’t support blood. Not even my own blood, not to mention the neighbour’s, the dog’s or anyone else’s blood. I immediately ran there: Show me, where it is. I didn’t have to look for him for a long time, because he left a little pond there, since his paw was open. I reacted like Oh my God, he’s cut his leg, what’s going to happen now, he’s going to bleed to death. I felt my pulse on my neck, it wasn’t just palpable, but also visible. One could count the frequency of my heartbeats. In the meantime I was wondering how many minutes it would take to go to our doctor who lives 20 kms from us, and how much blood he could possibly loose during this time, is he going to be shocked or if I’m going to be shocked. Dömötör came up to me in the meantime with the ball, he waved his tale, and he didn’t show any signs of not being well at all…

Luckily, his “dad” was around, and he led the whole process. Got in the car, calming me and the dog down at the same time. He wasn’t hesitating, he went right to the doctor who was closest, 2 kms from us, so that the dog could recieve medical treatment as soon as possible.
The doctor wasn’t a fool either, he realized that I was about to faint, seeing how I was sweating and how I kept wringing my hands. In brief, I was showing nearly all the symptoms of panic and hysterics. He commanded me to sit down on a chair and told me I was not needed in the consulting-room, and that he was going to take care of the dog with my husband, so I shouldn’t worry. Of course I worried, especially because they had to hold down Döme, as he realized quite soon that it’s no fun for him.
The doctor examined the wound, there were no splinters in it, he cleansed it, disinfected it, bound it up, gave him an injection, better safe than sorry. But he didn’t sew it up, because we let him know how much our dog likes to race, and he decided not to do it, because the wound might swell up under the stitching. So it is better if I bind it every hour and disinfect with iodine, and if I watch out where we walk, so that not too much dirt would get into the wound.
Döme became a fashion dictator, because I put real socks on the bandage in order to protect the wound My vizsla son became so sexy, honestly, without any partiality He didn’t do anything to the sock, but still, after the walks he got rid of them somehow. It was a long healing process, and many of my socks became victims of it, but it was worth it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Him

Zsu