He was the Turner’s best friend a huge, slobbery Golden Retriever with a burgundy shade on his coat. For the most part, ,He was nice and playful in the presence of his owner ,but when let out of the yard instinct kicks in. The dog had ran out of the dry, arid yard along with the others and my friend Sam Turner shrieked,
”Can you help me get my dogs?” I said,
“Yes”. He exclaimed,
“Okay, let’s go.” We both turned onto Marygold st and started to search for his dog. Sam found him in a grassy yard in front of a light green house. Sam asked,
“Can you wait with him while I find the others?” I said,
“Alright.” I stepped towards him and tried to pet him to calm him down. At the moment when i touched the rough fur on his back, Huge, dark jaws filled my field of vision, a couple agonizing punctures then I was on the ground. As I laid there a glimpse of a biege figure scurried out of my peripheral view, I was bitten and left to die. The Ground was bloody and my whole world was dazed and blurry. I got up and was staggering down dusty Marygold st. and I was yelling,
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He saw the blood and screamed,
“Come Here!, Come Here!” I walked over and he laid me out on the driveway. Then, He covered the wound with a sterile towelette and applied pressure. In a stern voice He