If being afraid of animals is genetic, then I inherited it through my mother.
On Saturday, the two of us were driving to the cottage after running errands. The road to the cottage is a little windy and as we passed through the first curve we noticed a dog that appeared lost. I don't know what kind of dog it was, but I do know that it was a small, white one and it was wearing a collar. It looked scared, but harmless. My mother drove past the dog without too much concern. To my own surprise, I asked her "Aren't you gonna stop?"
She pulled over to the side of the road. I got out and started walking towards the dog. I patted my knees and told it to "come here." It did! It started charging at me and barking ferociously! No exaggeration!!! (Maybe just a little exaggeration, but it felt really scary). I turned on my heel so fast and started sprinting to the car. In my head I was picturing myself fumbling with the door handle like they do during all the climactic scenes of a thriller movie, where you start yelling at the screen because that's so fake and dramatic -- that would never happen! I pictured the dog catching up to me and mauling me while my mom stared at me from the drivers seat, sure as shit not gonna come to my rescue because she's more afraid of dogs than I am!
Luckily, none of those things happened. I made it into the car and said "Screw that dog! I don't care if it gets hit!"
So things didn't turn out the way that I planned but I still felt really accomplished. Honestly. Years ago, I wouldn't have even thought twice about the damned dog. So, the moral of the story is: I think I conquered my fears.
