Thursday, February 18, 2010
When I was young I was scared of a lot of things, like Zorro, the dark, heights. But the thing I was afraid of most was dogs. I hated everything about them, that they jumped on me, licked me, humped me on occasion. They were always so much bigger than me, and so unpredictable. I never knew when they would come after me, and the could always smell my fear. Even to this day I’m a cat person. When I was little it was only my mom and I, and having a single mother I practically lived at the sitters. Her name’s Brianna Rose and she was about 16, she was always so nice to me, but I dreaded going to her house. She has one of meanest dogs I’ve ever encountered. It was a Chihuahua and even though it was much smaller than me it made up for it with intimidation. The dog wouldn’t leave me alone, it was always growling at me, jumping on me when I ate. I had to sit in a special chair that made me feel like a lifeguard so it couldn’t get me. Most of the time they would lock it in a kennel but it would always keep its eyes on me ready to strike. But one day the stupid animal got its wish…it got me. When my grandma picked me up to go home, someone let it out, I was being vulnerable, putting on my coat. it wasted no time, it leaped trough the air and bit me in the stomach. I wailed with pain, Brianne’s mom pulled the dog off. As I cried it walked off tail wagging, content with a job well done. Even typing it now it brings the grudge I have against the species back again. It took me until about two years ago to conquer my fear.