I was told to write about a bad experience in my life. I remember coming home once to my golden retriever, Agonía. Knock knock. Every night’s the same now. It was just me coming home, since my dad was dropping me off and had to go to work. Now I know he didn’t always do it. First night wasn’t so bad. I think she was just happy to see me or something, but she accidentally bit me. It was bad, but it was just like a slap. Really light. She had never bitten before, but I needed to teach her a lesson, so I put her outside and gave her a light spank. Light so she wasn’t hurt very much. But it got worse. I came home a few more nights, and every time she kept biting me. I think something must have snapped in her. I told my mom what Agonía did, and that the bites were getting worse, but mom said don’t tell. It would probably be really hard for my sister Eva. She loved the dog, and would cry if we ever had to get rid of her. Besides, it would be hard for her to admit. Like she married the wrong man.

Agonía bit us a few more times, and man, those nights were hard. The second time was maybe a month after. This time dad was home, after had just had a rough day at work. And I was bothering dad. He was annoyed at me and the dog, so he let Agonía outside and gave her a light spanking. Afterwards, dad said it was probably my fault. Yeah, he’s right. I had been playing with the dog, messing around with it passed its breaking point. It bit me on the right hand always too, never the left. It was still just a slap. I never hit the dog very hard. I always apologized to Agonía afterwards too. Slap don’t hurt dad said but he still said sorry. Sorry he say to me. Soon my dog started biting my dad, and he hit harder than I did. Me? I was watching. I couldn’t help but watch my dad hit the dog. The only time I looked away was when I was watching my sister to make sure she wasn’t looking. She knew by the third. She might have known that my dad hit Agonía before that.

Third time was four months after the second. This time it was a harder slap. The dog bit harder, so it deserved a harder slap, my dad told me. Besides, the slap was my fault. That’s what dad said. If I wasn’t playing with the dog so rough it wouldn’t have bitten me. I guess I agree. Dad was mad too, which might have made him hit the dog harder. Said mom- I cooked bad dinner. Stop crying. Eva always cried after the dog was hit, and my mom could never console her. It just added to the problem too, since crying annoyed dad. It wasn’t really his fault. He had to slap the dog.

Fault is hard to find said mom. It got worse once dad lost his job. He seemed more irritable than normal, and the dog was biting harder. But whenever the dog bit, my mom reminded me that Job was patient, mom said with Bible. I think hits were getting harder. My dad was kind too, and patient. But he said that even he had a limit, and at some points he needed to discipline the dog. Harder to be patient dad said when you’re crying. Dad had a hard day at work, that’s what he kept telling sister. It got harder to calm my sister, since she always cried, and that sometimes annoyed dad. Sister I’m sorry, I say, it was my fault. Don’t cry. I tried taking the blame, since my dad never talked to my sister nicely, but I couldn’t keep her quiet. So I told her to cry in bed. Where dad won’t see. At least that way dad wouldn’t be annoyed. The dog kept biting more, and so, you see, the nights kept getting harder. Hits got harder. The dog now whined for a minute after being hit by my dad, and I think the dog was seriously getting hurt. Harder than normal tackle somebody did to me so I broke my arm playing football is what I tell doctor. Only my mom was hit.

The dog died, but the hit was never my dad’s fault. It’s never dads fault. He kicked the dog this time, and I heard something snap. The dog whined, and then eventually passed out. But the dog had just bitten my mom really hard and caused her to bleed. Dad was mad. Fault is something you don’t put on somebody mom say. I’ll say my arm broke playing football. My mom always said that we can never put fault on somebody because we are not God. But football goes for a long time. It never ends. I’m going to play for years and years, and the ends not in sight. Be patient mom say. We got a new dog, and my sister was afraid my dad would kill that one too. So I told her to say don’t. We need to talk. I eventually told her to tell her teacher about my dad’s violence, but she was just as scared to admit it as I was. Talk isn’t good sister say. Sister say Mom say every dad does this.

The second dog died today. My mom’s gone too. It’s just me, my sister, and my dad.

This needs to end. We need to talk. My sister still cries every night over the second dog. I think I’ve gotten over it though.