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February Blog Challenge – 2: Three Childhood Memories

In Challenges, February 2013 on February 3, 2013 at 3:39 pm

Alright, Day 2: 3 significant memories from childhood…

  1. My grandfather bred chickens when I was young.  He dabbled in cock fighting (which is horrible and gross but was a popular underground money maker if you were good at breeding chickens and training roosters to be ruthless killers).  The roosters were all kept on ties, loose enough to strut around and peck at the ground surrounding their teepee homes, and most of the hens were kept in cages and pens.  When the hens hatched chicks, the chicks were placed in a large cardboard box and moved into the house to be cared for all day long.  They were put under a heat lamp and fed special food to ensure they grew properly so they would be healthy and strong adults to feed back into the breeding and fighting.  I was outside playing by myself one day when I was 4 years old and I went into the old shed in front of my grandparents house.  I didn’t notice the hen on the shelf near the ceiling until I heard her squawking and I looked up just in time to see her spread her wings to descend upon little old me.  She was mad and I could tell, so I turned on my heels to run.  I didn’t even realize I was screaming the loudest and shrillest scream of my short little life.  The chicken was right on my heels and I had heard the horrors of being flogged.  It was like a movie – I couldn’t run fast enough and just when I thought I was gaining space, I tripped and fell.  I landed right ont he 3 little steps leading to the porch, still screaming, and out of no where was scooped up into safety.  My ear-piercing girl screams had attracted the attention of my mother and uncle from inside the house and they ran to my rescue, picking me up and scaring the hen away.  We later found out that the hen secretly had chicks stashed away in the shed and apparently did not want a human near them.  I’m just glad I didn’t get a beak to the eye that day…
  2. I was around 7 years old.  My mother and I showed up at my grandmother’s house and when I walked into the kitchen, a huge dog came barreling through the room, sliding to a stop just inches in front of me.  It was a Doberman who, sitting, was as tall as I was.  My uncle assured me that she was sweet and wouldn’t hurt me, which was fine because I never really had a fear of dogs anyways.  This dog’s name was Christy and was a stray that they had found on the side of the road the day before.  It was obvious that she had been abused.  She was skinny and flinched if you made a quick movement too close to her, but she was very friendly and was a very polite dog.  My mother and I decided to go for a walk later that afternoon on the little one lane road that our family lived on and figured we would take Christy with us.  We didn’t leash her; there was no point.  While walking, I noticed my shoe had come untied.  I bent down to tie it and told my mom to wait, but she didn’t hear me.  I tried to hurry so I could catch up, but this just made me mess up and have to try again.  Christy had been walking alongside my mom and noticed that I wasn’t on her other side anymore.  I watched, still trying to tie my shoes, as she turned, saw me several yards behind kneeling down, and stopped.  She then turned and walked back to where I was.  She came all the way back to me and sat down on the ground right next to me while I continued to try to tie my shoes.  At this point, my mom stopped and looked back to find Christy waiting patiently right by my side.  Once I finally got my shoe tied, I stood up, at which point Christy stood up, and when I resumed walking, so did she.  That was the best dog my uncle ever had and that was how she treated our whole family right up until she passed away from cancer several years later.
  3. I stabbed a girl once.  I was in head start and it was with a pencil.  We were going an art project and I had my supplies spread out in my space when the teacher called for clean up.  I started cleaning up my space and separating the trash from the thing I wanted to keep when another girl came up and tried to take some of my things.  I asked her to stop and told her that she was taking things that weren’t trash, but she didn’t listen.  She started playing with my supplies, taunting me, and I tried to grab them back from her.  This went on for a couple of seconds before she cried out.  In our scuffle and my attempt to get my things back from the tease, the pencil in my hand had sort of grazed / sort of stabbed her in the chin.  The teacher had to do first aid and I got my play time taken away, despite the fact that it had been an accident.  Then the girl had to be dramatic and cry for the rest of the day so they called her grandmother to come pick her up.  Thank God, her grandmother showed up at nap time so I didn’t have to face them.  I just buried my face in my plastic mat and pretended to be asleep.  She wore a band-aid on her face for probably 3 days afterwards.  All over a little scrape that didn’t even fully break the skin. Sheesh…
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