hero or not i'm still taking my shot

Today I was walking Cooper and he's very curious and has to check out everything we walk by. We crossed Spring St and came to a yellow house where two kids playing in the front yard. I didn't think anything of it because I walk by people all the time with Cooper and for the most part, it's never an issue. BUT, these kids have to be different. The older girl, who had to be at least ten years old, came straight over to Cooper and started petting him.

And then he jumped on her.

When I was a kid my mom drilled into my head that you don't ever go near a strange animal because it might rip your head off and chew it to pieces. Yes, my mom was a little TOO protective of us. I was never allowed to watch Beavis & Butthead or Ren & Stimpy and MTV was off-limits when Mom was close enough to hear what I had on the TV. I always had to wear a coat to school even in June and was never allowed to buy school lunches because - what if there was a band-aid or contagious disease mixed into the vegetables??

So anyway, when I was a kid, I had this ridiculous fear of every dog I ever saw. My grandma's neighbor had a GIANT dog (picture Beethoven when he stopped being the cute furry puppy and turned into a huge slobbering mess) named Fritzi that I was terrified of. Of course, whenever we were over her house the dog would be out in his yard and I would hide behind my mom because I was afraid that he would rip my head off and chew it to pieces.

So, fast forward a few years, and all of my cousins are at Grandma's and we're all playing out on the swingset. Out of nowhere Fritzi comes running down the hill separating my grandma's yard from Fritzi's yard...and everyone is all excited because they were normal and not afraid of the dog. I, on the other hand, freaked out and started screaming for my mom and ran away from the dog. The dog, being a normal dog, started running after me because well, that's what dogs do. I circled around a big oak tree in the yard, trying to outrun the dog who had a good forty pounds on me. My mom eventually heard my cries of bloody murder and came out and rescued me from Frizti, but I will forever be embarassed that I was so terrified of a goofball dog when I was eight years old.

I'm leaving for Disney in three days and a.) am terrified of getting on a plane and b.) will miss Cooper like crazy and c.) have to find my phone charger before I leave or else I'm fucked.