Six-thirty on a Sunday morning in
Scottsdale,
Arizona. My wife and I are on our two-hour walk and far from home. Cell phone rings. Our 18-year-old son Chris is on the phone to
tell us that he was out running in the neighborhood and was bitten by a dog that
was being walked by its owner.
We
tell him to get the owner’s name, phone number and the dog’s shot record, and
then to go home and wash out the wound and put antiseptic on it.
After doing that, he calls back and thinks he might need
to see a doctor. Thanks to American
health-care, we are able to tell him that
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