When I was around four or five years old, possibly even younger, I managed to get a scar that would be on the side of my right knee forever. It was night time and I was at my Aunt Marge’s house. I was playing with my favorite cousin, Taylor, who is about the same age as me. We were upstairs in my aunt’s oldest daughter’s room by ourselves. I don’t remember much about that day, but what I remember is that we decided it would be a fun idea to ride my cousin’s dog, Daisy. Daisy was a small, wrinkled bulldog. I guess we didn’t know at the time that it is not okay to ride dogs. Thank goodness we were small children. While I was riding daisy, I hit my knee off of the edge of the uncovered metal box spring of the bed. Ouch! The next thing
