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Dogs are great protectors. 

It was December night, Christmas was only two weeks away. The sky was overcast, but the roads were dry. All was quiet in our small town as I drove to my grandmas house. I heard the sirens first. Ambulances with their interiors lit like television screens in a dark room flew by, escorted by police cars on the way to the hospital. When I arrived to my grandmas house she was on the porch struggling to put on a coat. I was 17 then and it would take a long time before sirens lost their power to reduce me to tears. 23 years have passed, but only recently have I realize how deeply affected I was by the events caused by a drunk driver so long ago. My sister who was 12 for sitting in the front seat. When the accident occurred my youngest brother was eight.

He was sitting in the backseat of our families large city a.m. The force of the crash sent him flying headlong into the back of the front seat leaving him with a swollen eye. He was admitted to the hospital for observation. He didn’t talk much when I visited him he just sat in the bed. My sister had severely fractured her school that required immediate surgery. The resulting facial scar became our families probably a reminder of how close you came to diamond night. My mother was admitted to the intensive care unit and had to be stitched up. Dad tried to prepare me before we went into go see her but tell me she looked and sounded worse than she was.

When I was temporarily held in place by bandage wrapped around her head. My dad, brothers, my sister and I spend Christmas at the hospital visiting my mother. Sometime she was so out of it for medication she barely recognized us. We celebrated 25 others birthdays one only days after Christmas and the other early in January there too. I am never watching the police escort the drunk driver out of the hospital the night of the accident. He looked about 40 years old, but I could only guess. The man was jailed over the weekend and lost his license for 30 days. I don’t know if that was his first violation but I know it wasn’t the last. Many local people who know the driver our surprise when they hear about the accident and are quick to defend him.

They tell me he Was a war hero. In the afternoon, just days before Christmas. I had started down the back staircase of the building on my way to visit my son, when I recognized my neighbors new pick up truck as it poured down the street. The driver is the entrance to our shared parking lot he reversed crookedly and slammed his transmission. He looked at me drunk and said did I scare you.

He did scare me and he scared my dog too. My dog started barking as loud as she could and it scared the drunk. He ran away scared like a little girl. My dogs are super friendly, but they can also sense when something is not right. That is why they are great protectors.


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My dogs love me and my guacamole colored jacket.

Do you remember an article of clothing that took on special significance for you while you were growing up?

It might have been a pair of cowboy boots, the dress that made you feel like a princess, the sweater you were forced to wear that brought the wrong kinds of attention, or a hat that was your signature piece of clothing. Maybe a T-shirt you couldn’t live without. Because the emotions that arose when you’re that special article of clothing.

One’s clothing is ones identity. My clothes have failed me. When I needed a new jacket my mother asked what kind I wanted. We were in the kitchen and there was steam on the windows from her cooking. She listen so long wall strained her that I thought she understood for sure what I wanted. The next day when I got home from school, I discovered on my bedpost a jacket the color of day old guacamole. I approached the jacket slowly and it seem like if I want to shake of random strangers hand. From the kitchen my mother yelled that my jacket was in the closet. I close the door to her voice and pulled the rack of clothes in the closet, hoping the jacket on the bedpost wasn’t for me but my mean brother. I stared at the jacket. I want to cry because it was so ugly and so big that I knew I’d. Have to wear it for a long time. I was a small kid. Very thin, and it would be years before I’d have a new one. I stare of the jacket, I can enemy, thinking bad things before I took off my old jacket who sleeves climbed halfway to my elbow. I zipped it up and down several times and rolled the cups up. I put my hands in the pocket and flap the jacket like bird wings. I sat on the bed and sit against the bed and call my hair. I looked ugly. I threw my brothers bed and looked at it for a long time before I slipped and on and went to the kitchen to tell my mom thank you. That was the first afternoon with my new jacket. The next day I work to six grade and got a D on my math quiz. My best friend eat an apple while looking at me in the girls turned away to was from the monkey bars. The teachers were no help they look my way talk to Felicia looked in my new jacket. I saw their heads Bob with laughter their hands half covering their mouth’first afternoon with my new jacket. The next day I work to six grade and got a D on my math quiz. My best friend eat an apple while looking at me in the girls turned away to was from the monkey bars. The teachers were no help they look my way talk to hopefully she’ll looked in my new jacket. I saw their heads Bob with laughter their hands half covering their mouths. Even though it was cold, I took off the jacket during lunch and play kickball with a thin shirt. But when I return to class this clip the jacket on and shivered until I was warm.

Finally one, I slid out of the jacket but a few minutes later put it back on when the fire bell rang. And so it went, and my guacamole jacket. Even the girls who had been friendly blew away to follow the boys in the neat jackets.i hated my jacket.

When I was done with school and I got home there was my dogs. They were so happy to see me. They did not even care that my jacket was ugly. They loved me for me. That is when I realized it did not matter what I wore as long as I was confident in who I was. I wore that jacked because it symbolized that I love my mom. And that is nothing to be ashamed of. Dogs teach you great things in life.

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A sport with my dog


A Golf Tale with my dog
Golf is what I love. It is what I do. And it is who I am. In many respects it has defined and shaped my character and personality. I couldn’t possibly imagine my life without golf and what is has meant for me. Ever since I was a little boy, no older that two or three. I have had a golf club in my hand. My mother has pictures of me as a toddler with my father on the putting green of the golf course. With a putter, the shaft reduced in length so that it would fit me. I would spend hours trying to place the small white ball in the little round hole.

I’m sure at first that I took to the game to be like my father. To act like him, play like him, and hit the ball as far as he did. However, it is not what I have learned about the mechanics of the golf swing or about the facts of the game that have caused golf to mean so much to me, but rather it is the things golf has taught me about everyday life in general. In its simplicity, golf has taught me many lessons and values other people have trouble learning elsewhere.
Golf is a good teacher because there are many variables and aspects to the game. You constantly have to think, analyze, and evaluate your position and strategy. Unlike many sports that rely on committing actions to muscle memory. Golf requires a lot of information to think about and keys to remember. Golf has enabled me to apply the skills of patience and analysis to many other parts of my life.
Golf has changed and shaped my personality. Treat others how you would like to be treated. Golf has helped me with my morals and values today. Simply by learning the rules I learned about respect and how it related to my life.
The first time my father took me out to the golf course. I waited for this day for a really long time and he finally gave me the chance. I was a caddy for my father. I was still to young to carry his bags, but I would do the minor tasks for him.
The lessons I learned that day appear so simple now.  I loved having this experience with my dogs by my side.

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A woman and her Dogs.



They do not lie when they tell you a dog can be humans bestfriend. I grew up with dogs and have raised them my entire life.

They are amazing creatures. They are alwys so happy and look up to you. Many people can argue that they do have souls, but it is so hard  not to see a small unique soul in them.

Each dog is so different with there unique personality. My dog honey has a bit of a temper, but she is a sweetheart. Regina is a wild, active dog who has ADHD. Then, there is Puka. She does what ever she wants, but she is also a very good dog. She is good with other dogs, but loves to chase squirrles in the back yard.

Honey and Regina are chihuahuas and Puka is pitbull. I know weird mix.

I love these doggies with all my heart.

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