Thumper Bit My Face

I was probably three or four years old, waddling around like a little derp and secretly shoving chocolates into my mouth behind the couch with Taran when my parents brought home a black dog. I don't think he was a quite a puppy anymore, but nonetheless, we kept him and my older brother named him Thumper (after the bunny on Bambi, which made complete sense to him I guess).

Now I have to be honest with you, my fellow readers, that in my mind palace I hold not a single sliver of memory about Thumper. No memory of the moment I first saw him, not a memory of the first time I petted him. Nope. I was but a wee little lass and memory at that time meant only trying to remember what Mom gave me for breakfast that morning (probably oatmeal).

But.

There is one memory within my mind palace that could never be lost about Thumper.

On one fateful day, three/four-year-old me wanted to play outside with Thumper. It was just me and the black dog, having a fit of giggles and whatnot, when I noticed he had a large bone in his food bowl. Quickly I recalled all the shows I watched of Clifford the Big Red Dog (which was about as good as my memory got beyond breakfast that morning), and I realized that playing fetch with bones was a great way to make play with dogs. So, little ol' me grabbed the bone and started to jog so Thumper and I could begin our bonding experience.

But Thumper thought otherwise.

Everything past this moment was a blur--and not just any ordinary blur. It was a horrifying one. I realized that Thumper did not want to share his bone, and that in fact fetch was not with a bone but with a stick. He was running after me like a crazed monkey or a black rider out to get my soul. What was I to do? Drop the bone? Of course not.

I ran as fast as I could to the front door, and I vaguely remember trying to climb the fence that was the patio that connected to said door, but the next scene was...was truly horrific.

Thumper bit my face.

I don't know what happened after that. I must have dropped the bone while I let out a mighty roar of a scream (I had to make sure my parents knew their most precious child had been inflicted with pain), and I quite literally can't remember what happened thereafter. I must have wiped the memory clean from my mind. And probably all the memories of that day, including what I had for breakfast.

In the end, Thumper inflicted a small but deep wound on my face that now shines as a scar on the left side of my face right next to my nose. It was only a few days later perhaps that Thumper mysteriously disappeared. Rumors said our neighbors kidnapped him. But me? I believe Thumper is still out there somewhere.

Protecting his precious bone. Biting little children's faces if they come too near.

The End.

Also my older brother said he was watching from the window the entire time and that I wasn't playing fetch--that I was actually taunting Thumper with the bone and not giving it to him. Which is probably true. But somehow I don't even remember it that way.

The THE End.