I heard our 4-year old come down the stairs. Our little tornado. What I didn’t see was that he stopped to hug our 12-year old dog.

What I didn’t see was that the dog was on the couch, a big ‘no-no.’ I didn’t see Conor reach out to hug him. I didn’t see the bite occur.

I was only 10 feet away. Preparing dinner. Digging in the fridge. Opening a beer. It all happened in a blink of an eye.

The scream was deafening. The blood was everywhere. My son ran to me as I ran to him. I had failed as a dad.

My 4-year old cried to me, “I’m okay, daddy. I’m okay.” I hugged him and pretended that it was all okay. But it wasn’t.

My wife was right there, too. We both missed what was happening. She was grabbing towels to clean the mess. What the hell happened?

She called our neighbor, the nurse. The neighbor ran over. Looked. And said, “Take him to the doctor.” Crap.

25 stitches and 8 hours later, we were on our way home. The next day the dog was at the kennel. 10 days later, the dog was on the one farm where dogs can run to their hearts content with no rules. Forever.

Conor still says he wants his dog back. Other times he says he doesn’t want to be a pet owner anymore. I don’t know what I want.

Conor still hugs dogs. And occasionally asks for a new puppy. I still cringe when he hugs dogs. But I bite my lip. Kids are resilient. Parents, not so much.

Tags: 4-year old, 2015, dog, bite, bitten, hospital, stitches