Dog Fear

I have this one thing about dogs. To me, D = ma. That basically means, dog equals mighty attack. That is because of one experience. That one little experience changed my feelings about dogs. Then there was another thing that made my feelings worse about dogs. Dogs used to be okay to me. They weren't that bad. Until the day I went to Delaware with my friends to see my friend's cousin. As soon as we got there, I noticed that it had a dog house. Then I noticed the huge dogs sitting inside of the dog houses, the house was all scratched and crumpled. There were loose bricks, and right in the middle was a huge hairy dog, drooling and frowning as our car came closer. Next thing I knew, they were running after our car. I screamed, because I expected the dogs to demolish, destroy, damage, devastate, and desolate (I thought all of the destructive D words I can think of) our car. But they just jumped up, excited to see visitors. I frowned. I got out of the car last. <FLASH FORWARD, TO THE THOUGHT CHANGING MOMENT>>>>>>>~~~~~~~>>>... Okay, I was sitting on the couch, waiting for something exciting-YAP! SCREAM! Tony, the little pet dog got his chance to escape from the terrible jail-like indoors. He ran outside, straight into the direction of the King of the Dogs. (That's what I call the huge, bigger than a German Shepard dog.(I'm not even sure if it is a boy)) The owner of that dog, chased the dog, my friend and I went outside, too. Then I made a mistake. A HUGE mistake. While everyone else went to where Tony was, I went the other way, to save him from the King of the Dog. Then I realized that Tony was safe and that I was the one that wasn't safe. The King of the Dogs  was staring at me, with it's eyes wide open. It growled, ready to rip me into pieces, the next thing I knew, my legs were moving. So were the dogs. PAUSE... Then the dog leaped up, which was actually smart for a dog, and jumped on top of me, shoving me down. I was on the floor with my knee, scratching on the hard gravel road. I didn't look. The dog moved back. I looked at my bloody knee. Blood poured out, almost touching my sock. After that day, I hated dogs ever since. Then there was the fact that I was allergic to them, that made it ten times worse. That is why, reader, I hate dogs. THE END