I admit I go overboard with dogs, but this is too much even for me.
I bit Mr. B. On his hand.
Not on purpose, but hard. Not hard enough to break his skin, but plenty hard to cause pain.
I don't know how it happened; I was asleep.
I was having a nightmare and dream-shouting, "No, no, no." Mr. B reached over in a daze to gently nudge me awake and I chomped down on his hand. He tried to move it, but I clenched harder, so he left his hand between my canines till the nightterror passed and my jaws gave way.
At least that's what he tells me. Assuming he was not hallucinating himself, I'd sure like to have a word with whomever selects my dreams.
If I'm going to be a dog, I'd really prefer to be an Alaskan Husky, not a pitbull.
Is that so much to ask?
(Please note: I have nothing against pitbulls. In fact, I really like them. I even rescued one that followed me home one day, and I paid $75 for the option to make sure she would be adopted. I would just rather run like crazy in the snow than bite things.)
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