Maiyuu's tasty ankle

A street dog has taken a bite out of my boyfriend’s leg.

Maiyuu was on his bicycle yesterday when he tossed a cigarette in the direction of a hostile neighbourhood dog.

He doesn’t like these dogs, as they chase him when he is on his bike.

This one didn’t appreciate the cigarette butt gesture. It bounded after him and bit Maiyuu’s leg, just above the left ankle.

Maiyuu suspects the dog belongs to a som tam (spicy Thai salad) trader, who witnessed the scene.

‘He looked bewildered, as I didn’t stop to inspect the bite, but just kept going,’ said Maiyuu, who presented his wound for my inspection when I returned from work last night.

The wound is not deep, but looks angry. Maiyuu has applied an antiseptic, and is walking around with the wound uncovered, so it stays dry and heals quickly.

‘At first it felt numb, so I didn’t race away, but kept up my normal speed.’

Normally Maiyuu darts about when he is on his bike, but when he passed the som tam dog yesterday was going at dawdling speed.

Maybe the dog was confused to see him going past so slowly, so decided to bite him. Or maybe he is a reformed smoker.

‘I lashed out with my foot as I passed; I think I struck it in the head,’ said Maiyuu.

Excellent. If it had been me, I would have hopped off my bike to have a self-indulgent moan to the owner.

Thais would have been sympathetic, as they love a good drama. They would laugh and point, as laughing is the best antidote to misery, even if it may seem an odd reaction to foreigners worried about the prospect of getting rabies.

I have been bitten by Thai street dogs, usually while I am in a tired and emotional state, so to speak. They know how humans walk, and when we weave about reckon we have hostile intent. These days I try to avoid dogs after I have been drinking.

Maiyuu is taking it all in his stride. He walks normally, without a limp, though the wound looks red and swollen this morning.

‘Did you have bad dreams?’ I asked.

‘No.’

At my smart inner-city condo, we are surrounded by street dogs. A pack of 10 or more lives in the slum section to the rear. Another large family of mutts lives on the leafy side of the condo, by the entrance.

During the night, they howl. A particularly plaintive howl by one mutt can set off a doggy chorus which reverberates around the neighbourhood like a Mexican wave.

I will take a different approach tonight when I pass the dogs on my way home. When I walk their way, they sniff at my ankles, as if looking for a tasty spot to bite.

I am never sure how to react. Talk to them? Pretend I don’t notice?

I try to look friendly, but tonight I shall be extra nice: I might blow canine kisses. If I am lucky, they might let me pass.