Sorry

When I was two years old, I came close to death. I was bringing back a plate when I walked on her tail and the dog bit me. My father recovered on her mouth. My brothers were afraid to lose me. This dog had already bitten my brother, my grand mother and my aunt. The dog death of a « beautiful life ». I was only two years old but I remember everything, my mother had my blood on her, I still hear the sound of the ambulance alarm resonating in my head. Over the time of my childhood, I received a lot of insults for example the scar, the dog, the strange girl or the scar-head. One day, my mother told me, that when I was sewed, the doctor wanted to take a picture of me, I smiled but I was on the verge of breaking my stitches.

For a certain time, I was scared of dogs even puppies. I was yelling and crying. But, as and when I grew up I was no longer afraid. I lived with seven dogs. All the same, at 14 years old my phobia was back on the big dogs that I don’t know. I think that I remember that because it’s a part of me but I’m still always ashamed of it, I don’t go to people for fear they stare at me, for a long time I didn’t want to go out anymore.

With each new acquaintance I am asked the question, and I answer without complaining because it has become a routine.

Now again, I would like to do surgery but if that doesn’t happen it will not be serious because it is my story.