The Big "What If"?

So, I’ll start this post by saying that everyone is absolutely fine.  However, we had a bit of a run-in with a pit bull over the weekend, who attempted to murder my Maggie before Cory leapt into action—I was standing there helpfully screaming while Cory threw the dog backward, but not before it got him on the arm (once again, he’s fine—one good thing about adoption medicals is that he’s up to date on tetanus shots--he didn't need stitches). 

Anyhoodle, it was really, really scary and really, really, really fast.  I don’t think I could quite comprehend what was happening until the dog was on top of ours, biting away—one good thing about having a Photoshopped Dog (as my sister calls her) is that her head is too small for her body, so she has this weird ridge of skin and fur on her neck that effectively protected her. 

So of course, the conversation turned to the big What Ifs—what if that was our child?  --I mean, let's get real, Maggie is our child, but what about our human child who won't have fur to protect them?  What would we do?  How fast would we respond?  We were out of state—do seasoned parents always know where the local ER is when out of town (no, seriously, do you?)  How did we not see this coming?  And on and on and on. 

Anyway, it was good convo to have on our long drive back from Montana, where we were celebrating Cory’s gram’s 92^nd birthday (the woman still has her original teeth and drives herself—some seriously amazing genes there!).  To be honest, we didn’t really come up with anything new or particularly productive, other than a plan to keep our child in the house until they are thirty or so, encased in bubble wrap—with breathing holes, of course.    I mean, we’re not crazy.