My father shoved his arm between its jaws like Tyr with Fenris and my mother grabbed me and ran with me into the bathroom and locked the door. It was the dog of a close family friend, nobody knew it was ill, it saw year-and-a-half-old me running around its living room and all of a sudden, instead of the pocket edition of a human, it saw prey. I believe it was a German Shepherd. It actually got my head in its jaws, although did not follow through with the crushing part due to my father making like a Norse god and its owner physically flinging himself on top of the dog a few seconds later. I have almost no memory of these events; I was in high school when a friend's Dalmatian nipped me and I burst into convulsive tears which were all the more terrifying because I didn't feel any emotional upset in the moment, certainly no fear of Perdy herself, but I couldn't stop crying. My friend's older brother handed me boxes of Kleenex through the door of the bathroom. I was rattled enough when I got home that I described the incident to my parents and they told me the story of the dog that tried to eat me when I was a toddler. I was amazed because I had previously thought that sort of buried response was an invention of fiction. And that is how I learned that triggers are real.
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My father shoved his arm between its jaws like Tyr with Fenris and my mother grabbed me and ran with me into the bathroom and locked the door. It was the dog of a close family friend, nobody knew it was ill, it saw year-and-a-half-old me running around its living room and all of a sudden, instead of the pocket edition of a human, it saw prey. I believe it was a German Shepherd. It actually got my head in its jaws, although did not follow through with the crushing part due to my father making like a Norse god and its owner physically flinging himself on top of the dog a few seconds later. I have almost no memory of these events; I was in high school when a friend's Dalmatian nipped me and I burst into convulsive tears which were all the more terrifying because I didn't feel any emotional upset in the moment, certainly no fear of Perdy herself, but I couldn't stop crying. My friend's older brother handed me boxes of Kleenex through the door of the bathroom. I was rattled enough when I got home that I described the incident to my parents and they told me the story of the dog that tried to eat me when I was a toddler. I was amazed because I had previously thought that sort of buried response was an invention of fiction. And that is how I learned that triggers are real.