Memory Monday-Week 4

Because of the wacky weekend my memory is when I got stitches. We had a dog when I was growing up named Fred. He was a black Doberman and I did not like him! That was further evidenced when one afternoon after school he got loose out of his pen and was terrorizing the neighborhood-ok not really but he was a big dog. I went after him to bring him home and when I got to him I grabbed him by his collar and started to walk/drag him home when he turned his head and bit me on the bicep. I screamed, let him go and ran home with a big puncture wound on my arm. My mom took me to Orem to Mark Preston's house because his dad was doctor. I got stitches in my arm in Mark's kitchen. I think that I was about 10. I still have the scar to prove it. This could be one of my many reasons why I do not like animals. In case you are wondering-my dad did not shoot the dog like he should have but he did take him to the vet to get nuetered shortly after the incident. Hah-so there big mean dog!