Life Bites

Sometimes the price is pain, or a relationship, or time we don’t have. And every now and then, it’s an entire identity.

She bit me the first time.

No blood and not intentionally, but surprising all the same.

Space saves, I thought, so I held her treat by the corner like it was a priceless comic book I didn’t want to ruin.

It made it worse.

Fine, no more treats, I decided.

But the easy way out made me anxious, so I pushed the thought back the way I push back the desire to sleep late and eat a box of cereal for dessert.

I decided to cover the entire treat with my fingers and see what happened.

She bit me again, of course. But this time, knowing she got some skin, stopped all on her own. Today she barely closes her jaw around whatever mouth-watering morsel I have. And I no longer dread treat-time.

Her name is Willow, and she’s my Pitbull.