For the two years of my life, injuries meant a scratch, scrape, or rug burn. Then every time I would get a scrape or scratch I would say I had an injury. Besides my so called injuries, I finally grew to know what a real injury was.

An injury is damage or harm inflicted or suffered. When I was seven years old I

come to realize what an injury was, instead of thinking a scratch or scrape was an injury.

The first time I encountered a real injury was when a dog had attacked me. My cousin’s and I decided to go outside and play with the new dog that my older cousin brought home. The dog tied up behind the shed was happy to see young ones wanting to play. The area was surrounded by trees, grass, a shed, and acorns all over the ground. We united the dog to let him roam the open yard with us.

After we tied Blade up, Crystal and Sam appeared to tell us, children not to bother the dog without their supervision. At the time, Christine petted the dog and went back to the house. A few minutes after Christine went into the house my uncle yelled for me and told me my parents were on their way to pick me up.

I started to walk away from the dog and my cousin’s, but I turned around to give my cousin’s a hug. After giving them all a hug, I went to pet the dog. As I stepped back a couple inches and turned around, the dog was lunging towards me. Before I got completely turned around the dog showed his teeth and growled furiously.

Finally when I got down the hill, the dog broke its chain and came running full speed ahead, towards me. The dog knocked me down on my face. When I got turned around he bit my stomach and my leg. The only thing I knew to do was to scream. I started screaming when I saw the blood. My uncle came running out of the house. When my uncle approached me and the dog, Crystal was already there trying to keep the dog away from me. Every time she’d get a good grip of the dog, he would break loose and charge at me again.

After my uncle picked me up and carried me into the house, my parents arrived to take me home. Instead of my parents taking me home as I expected, my parents rushed me to the hospital. At the hospital, the nurse took me straight back to the emergency room because she saw how much I was bleeding. While I waited for the doctor to stitch me up, I was wondering why the dog attacked me for no reason. Finally the doctor arrived to my room to stitch me up.

After I encountered my first major injury, I was petrified of dogs for about three or four years. The longer I was away from dogs the more I became scared to be around them. Instead of me staying away from dogs, I started to go around them again. For the longest time though, I didn’t want to be within five feet of a dog. Now that it is all over I love dogs and I hate seeing them mistreated.