Sometimes Work Really Bites….

Again, my ten-year-old boy had another creative brainstorm.  Since he loves dogs, and he needs to earn some cash (those Beyblades don’t just buy themselves), he decided to launch Christian’s Dog Walking service.

Well….uh….ok.  Profound words from Mom and Dad.

After deliberation, we told him he could distribute his flyers just to the neighbors up and down the street.  Which he did.  The first day of distribution was done with scotch tape, which didn’t reap any rewards.  But the second day was hand delivery. Bingo.  He got his first customer.

A Great Dane. …BOSS (literally, and probably figuratively as well). But a sweet Great Dane. 

With trash bags in pocket (after all, his flyer said he’d pick up poop too), he left the house for his first job.  We were proud of his enterprise and responsibility. (He’d even given up a trip to Grandma’s because he’d committed to walking the dog).

My boy walked that dog once.  Then he went over to play with the dog in his yard later, and was commissioned to come back in the evening for another walk.  He was even paid in advance – a dollar for each walk.

As evening approached, he set out once again, trash bags in pocket.  But on the way to his customer’s house, the 104-pound neighbor-dog had just gotten back from a frustrating, long visit to the vet.  He was apparently in a very bad mood.  He ran from his mistress, sniffed my little boy once, bit him on the leg, and ran off.

My boy kept walking to his customer’s house. Once the man found out what had happened, he told my boy he should wait on the walk; he should go back home to get doctored.

But lo and behold, as my little boy walked back by the neighbor’s house, the same dog ran up to him again. He screamed, and tried to hold his hand out to protect his leg, but…

Yes, you guessed it, the dog then bit his hand.

The bites were pretty bad, but thankfully not worse.  No mauling or muscle damage, and he escaped stitches.  Thank heaven for his customer who drove him back down the street to mom, and thank heaven for Care Now clinic, so people who have weird stuff happen to them after hours won’t have to sit forever in the ER.

So my little boy’s first day at work was both satisfying and brutal. But at least he earned some combat pay (Boss’s dad thought it was in order), and at least he got to skip his shower.

But unfortunately, he had to learn early on that some days work just really bites

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