I don't know what came over my girl Miss L— last week, but suddenly she turned on me. The result: a fat lip, and a bit bloody, too. My first injury, wounding not only body but soul.
It happened this way. At a very sniffy patch in the road, its appeal puzzling to my human handler (Dad), but who humored me nonetheless, I stopped to enjoy myself. I was out walking with Dad, Miss L—, and her Mom, D—. For some reason, Miss L— became incensed. Perhaps I was not paying attention to her lovely and appealing scent? Was it a crime that I found someone else's more intriguing? It could have been a passing fancy, but she gave me no time to explain.
I couldn't see the problem. After all, we're not affianced or anything, just neighbors. It's a kind of girl-next-door thing, you know. She's cute and everything, but do I really want to be tied down, at this stage in my young life?
Whatever my perspective, Miss L— completely lost her veneer of cool, and pounced. Right in the kisser. Ouch.