This is the story of a dog-ophobe, a dog-ophile and the parasite that brought them together. The dog-ophobe (for want of a better word) is a patient. The dog-ophile is her doctor — me.
My story is simple. At the end of the day, I look forward to two spaniels at home more than I do comfort food. Their wags are my Prozac, their snores my lullaby. So now you know where they sleep. Not under the bedcovers, but close.
By coincidence, my work also involves animals, but with a twist. I’m an expert in the parasites they occasionally transmit to humans.
Which leads me to my patient, a charming person who exudes kindness toward all creatures great and small. Here in dog-struck Los Angeles, I could easily picture her with an equally charming pooch. There’s just one catch. For as long as she can remember, she has deeply distrusted dogs.