The story of Francis

On a breezy summer day, while I was playing in the park a dog bit me. At the time I was seven years of age and playing with my friend Gabriel. He owned a breed of herding dog called a Koolie. The Koolie was named Francis. The dog was two and a half feet tall with grey and black spots. I suppose that Francis thought of us as part of a heard and instinctually tried to keep us together by biting our ankles. After a while I got annoyed and ran away.  This encouraged Francis to run up behind me and pounce. I flailed wildly which scared Francis. So, as most dogs will do when startled, Francis bit me. I remember lying on the ground watching as a pool of my blood slowly trickled out onto the woodchips. I could feel the woodchips poking into my back, but there was an even stronger pain. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach I could see my mom running towards me as I laid there, helpless. My mom picked me up and carried me over to a bench, where I was able to look at my side and see a large gash that had a seemingly never ending flow of blood coming from it. After that day I was always afraid of Francis and most dogs in general. It took me approximately one year to overcome my fear of dogs. Now I adore them.