My (Past) Fear of Dogs

When I was little, I used to be scared of dogs. I'm uncertain where this fear came from, but it was powerful. So, when my parents agreed to get a dog after months of my younger brother Ben begging, I was petrified. After searching for a rescue online, I ended up in a car for a 2-hour ride to New Hampshire to visit what I thought would be a ravaging beast. My imagination spiraled the entire time about all the awful ways the visit would go. The dog would bark and bite us, we'd be beaten to death by her tail, and then we'd be kidnapped by the monsters selling the dog.

When we got to the house where the dog named Stellar lived, Ben jumped out of the car and raced to the back yard where two normal-looking people were waiting with an energetic Golden-retriever. I was relieved the owners were human, none the less I was hesitant as my mom and I followed Ben to the yard. By the time we got over there, Stellar and Ben were running around, and they seemed to be having fun. I let go of my mom's hand as I tentatively crept toward Stellar. She walked over to me, and I let her sniff my palm. She bent her head, and I cautiously started petting her. Her golden fur was soft and warm from the sun. When she licked my hand, I laughed. Soon, I was running around with Ben, playing with Stellar, and showering her with affection.

We adopted Stellar and were able to take her home with us that day. On the car ride back, I kept wondering why I was ever scared of dogs in the first place. I couldn't find a good reason, and soon after, my fear disappeared completely. Now, I love dogs. Sometimes, the only thing that cheers me up is seeing Stellar's happy face and wagging tail as she sees me. It's funny that the thing that used to scare me so much is now comforting. It makes me wonder what would happen if more people confronted their fears.