I have always wanted a dog. When I get one I'd probably call it cream. Or cheese. Or cream-cheese. I can't really decide. What I want is not a huge dog that chases you around every minute they see you, those scare me. But cute little puppies that practically does nothing but eat and poop – blegh – and sleep, of course. Yet the contradiction is that even though I like puppies for their cuteness – mostly – they still scare me when they get too hyper.
The thing is, when I was about 6, my neighbour brought home this cute fluffy puppy that looked innocent. Very innocent. And did I mention cute? So that began my coos of adorableness from afar, just watching it jump around playing with my friend.
One day, my friend caught me watching and invited me to come play with her and her puppy who apparently was called Bingo. It barked up and wagged it's tail and was giving me the puppy dog face evidently every puppy masters. I gave in and said yes, played roller skates with my neighbour while the puppy chased us around.
The day got dark and eventually we returned home. I said goodbye and while I was doing so, Bingo jumped up and bit my bandana, yanking my hair along with it. I screamed like the little girl I was and cried.
Unti this day, even though I still desperately want one, I find it hard to cope with it's hyperactive personality because of that traumatic accident. Or is it just me? Meh.
