One of my earliest memories is of my oldest brother getting bitten by a dog. I'm not sure how old I was, but we were living in College Park at the time, and we moved to Dr. Phillips when I was 6. So, I was pretty little. I vividly recall Chris walking into the house, saying he'd been bitten by the dog across the street, Mr. Bill. His entire calf was encircled in jaw marks. I never actually saw Mr. Bill in my few years of cognizance in College Park, but I have an extremely specific vision of him. The Mr. Bill of my memory, that bit my brother and made him go to the hospital for shots, was a huge, yellow, pit-bullish monster with giant teeth. I even wrote a poem in a college class about this memory (I got an A!) For most of my life, I have been scared of dogs because of this event. I was the kid that people had to put their dogs away for when I came over, even fluffy harmless Goldens. I was SERIOUSLY traumatized. (I still am kind of scared of big dogs, even though my own giant dog is a marshmallow.)
I had my parents over for dinner this weekend and we got to talking about how big dogs are better than little dogs, and my mom said, "Yeah, little dogs always would bite Chris, like that beagle or whatever it was that lived across the street from us in College Park."
Here is my inner monologue upon hearing that: "A BEAGLE? I was traumatized by a BEAGLE? I feel so cheated! Mr. Bill was a giant, menacing, venomous behemoth! NOT A BEAGLE!!!"
It has been more than 20 years since that happened, and I am just now finding out that my fears were based on my imagination. I actually feel disappointed that Mr. Bill wasn't the evil giant I made him out to be in my head. Is that weird?
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