It was a Thursday afternoon, about 3:45pm. The sun was out and the air was warm. It was the middle of spring. Voices traveled in all directions as the bus came to a stop at the end of the street. My brother, Jason, and I got off the bus when the door opened and the rest of the children followed. I was nine at the time. Jerome, one of the children, ran ahead of everyone to his house. In less than a minute he returned with his dog, Envy. My brother and I continued walking home and Jerome was walking towards us. All of a sudden, he let Envy loose and said, “GO!” The dog came charging at us. I screamed and began to run down the street. After running a block I realized that the dog was gone. On my way back to my house my brother met me at the corner where the bus dropped us off. Ever since then, I DO NOT LIKE DOGS!
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It was a Thursday and my family was on vacation in Jamaica. We were staying at my aunt’s house.

“Jason, wanna go outside?”

“Sure,” he yelled from the other side of the house.

He put his shoes on and we met at the front door.

“Let’s go,” he said as he opened the door and stepped on to the veranda.

“Umm… NO! The dogs stay under the steps. You know Pedigree is always under there. Let’s go out the door in Auntie Ally’s room.”

There are three doors that go outside: the front, the side, and the back door. When you walk down the front steps all the dogs will come from wherever they are to see who it is. The back door is in the kitchen and it leads to the back of the house where there are tons of plants, bushes, and trees. The side door leads to the front, the same place as the front door. But you don’t have to draw attention.

“You are such a baby!”

“Oh well,” I replied.

We walked through our aunt’s room and went outside. The sun was bright. The cars and trucks went by and the dogs were barking. The salty scent of the river flew across the street with the breeze. It was a Thursday. My family was on vacation in Jamaica. My brother and I went down to my uncle’s shop. In his shop he sold toiletries, snacks, drinks, candy, and ice cream. My brother and I got some gummy worms and left. We walked to the back of the house a saw a tree that had little round red orange things. I picked one off and ran inside. My mom was at the kitchen sink.

“What are these? Are they cherries?”

“No I think they are tomatoes.”

I ran back outside to my brother, who already started picking, not knowing what they were.

“They’re tomatoes,” I said walking up to the tree.

I started picking the tomatoes, as much as could fit in my hand. I picked so much that instead of me holding them they were resting on top of the pile. My hands got full so I was on my way to go inside. On my way inside, I found Pedigree standing by my side. I stopped and stared my heart was skipping beats.
Her fur was dark, the color jet black. Her eyes were bold; they were brownish hazel, the ones that get to the soul. She stopped and stared and her piercing eyes met mine. The thoughts of the last experience with a dog came through my mind. She growled and snarled. Jamaican dogs are different than American dogs. They are not trained and they are very aggressive. I stood still, stiff as ever, and called to my brother for help. Time passed and I knew he didn’t hear and my fear grew worse. My eyes returned to Pedigree’s eyes and they stayed together for a while. Within seconds she moved and then she walked away. After she left I sprinted through the door, that was left open, and sat on the bed and thought about everything that just happened. I couldn’t believe it but I was glad it was over.