Foster 1

Sarah Foster
Professor Megan Anderson
English 101.15
18 September 2014

Just a Nip
As the lights turned off one by one in my childhood household, I would call out to my
parents to tell me stories. Not because I wanted to delay going to sleep, but because I loved
hearing about them. I begged for stories about my mother and fathers lives and was fascinated
by them. About how my mother moved from New York state all the way down to the little town
of Spartanburg South Carolina. I loved to hear stories about her life with her five siblings, and
how they got through it all by relying on God. They looked to him in times of trouble. I wanted
to learn more about her experiences. I was interested about how they became the people they are
today, I wanted to model my life after them. As children we learn from our parents experiences.
Now that Ive gotten older I learn from my own experiences and refer to theirs for guidance.
One of the stories we would often talk about, was about their German Shepherd Collie
mix named Lacie. From my understanding she was a wonderful dog. She would watch after my
older siblings as they grew, she was in a way their guardian angel. They kept her in the large and
leisurely front yard, chained to a large shady tree. While she lounged, they would do yard work
and my brother and sisters would explore. The neighborhood consisted of upper middle class
households. Many of the owners were elderly couples, and disruption was practically
nonexistent. My older brother, Jonathan, was at a neighbors house. A rotten neighbor kid named

Foster 2
Patrick was lurking around the yard where Lacie was kept. He came up to our protective dog and
started hitting her with a childs plastic baseball bat. Lacie ignored him for a while but then after
he persisted she reacted in the only way she could; since she was trapped by the once lifesaving
chain. She quickly nipped him in the hand. Just a nip, it barely drew blood, if any. This did the
trick, the neighbor boy retreated, crying. Jonathan saw this from across the street, and began
running towards our house. He immediately went to my parents, and told them of what he saw.
They did what they found to be best. The boy was clearly provoking the dog and there was
merely a scratch on the boy, so everything went well. When my parents told me of this years
later; it reminded me of how life can be so unpredictable.
I thought of this tale as my hand was gushing blood, I said told myself Its only a
scratch, as I looked down to examine my wound. I had been excited to be on a well-deserved
break from school. It was also a turning point in my life. I was leaving my childhood elementary
school days behind me and starting a new with the big kids in middle school. I had connected
with this story since I was at about the same period of my life that my elder brother was in the
tale. Like in the tale, I was at a friends house, my best friends house actually. We had just
gotten picked up by my mom and we were all just talking and playing. Thats around the time we
went to her neighbors house. Miranda and I went over to a classmates house and talked to her.
It was a nice house, but Ill always remember the decorations in the front yard. It was Satan
beheading a man and several other eerie things. I was always easily spooked, so I already had an
uneasy feeling about my visit there. This feeling didnt go away for the rest of my visit. That was
around the time that I met their German Shepherd. My friend, Miranda, had gone to get a snack
for all of us being the kind hearted person she is. I was left with the awkward school friend, with
whom I had never bonded with. We talked a bit and then went to the fence to meet the family

Foster 3
dog. It was her new step-dads dog, and he was extremely joyous to see her. She pet it and gave
me a slight warning about its tendency to be protective. I thought nothing of me being seen as a
threat. I continued to talk to the neighbor girl, all the while the dog was wagging his tail as if he
wished to play. Without truly thinking about the fact that he was behind a fence, I slowly reached
my hand towards him and attempted to pet him. He mustve seen me as a threat, maybe I came in
the wrong way with my hand, or maybe this dog was just spiteful. Regardless of the reasoning
behind it, I was bitten by the mongrel. I quickly pulled my hand back and cradled it as well as
possible in the situation at hand. I then retreated to Mirandas house, although I dont recall
stumbling the distance of a house distance to my sanctuary. My mother was sitting in the front
with Mirandas mother, they gasped when they saw me. Tammy, Mirandas mother ran inside
and quickly grabbed a cold compress. My mom has never been good under pressure, I could hear
the shakiness in her voice as she says something I cant recall. At that time Miranda walks out
with two bowls of cheese balls, she was oblivious to the obvious at that time. Nothing could ever
hurt us, this is the mentality we both had. It could happen, but it couldnt happen to us. The
blood was then dripping down from my wrist at that time, and it came to her that something was
wrong. My mother got me in the car with the compress and a towel and very shakily took me to
the hospital.
In this white walled box of a room, a doctor sterilized my wound. He rattled off the
technicalities of a dog bite. He asked me what felt like an endless stream of questions, and told
me of how the wound almost punctured through to the other side of my hand. He then stitched
me up after numbing my hand, I could feel the tugging of his sewing. I couldnt watch, all of this
had happened because I was wrong. None of us knew just how wrong I was. The dog later went
on to attack Mirandas younger brother in the middle of a public street. The police became

Foster 4
involved, causing the dog to be forcibly killed. Afterwards, the owners came out and said that the
German Shepherd had attacked someone even before me. It is a shame that it had to escalate that
far.
A majority of the time animals, and human beings for that matter mean no harm towards
anyone. Unfortunately, there are the few cases where you could be terribly wrong. After this
predicament, I decided to be more aware of my surroundings before I act. I could have seen the
dogs ears laid down on his head, or could have even heeded to the warning given to me by the
only owner I knew he had. Innocence is beautiful, but when you ignore the facts it becomes
ignorance. I have since then forgotten the animals name that marred my hand. The scar will
always remind me of the experience, at one time I was embarrassed by this. Now I see it as a
lesson, a lesson of caution. My caution in everyday life, a caution that I believe everyone should
live with.