Most people don’t have memories from early childhood. I actually have a couple from when I was a toddler. One, in fact, was a vivid nightmare that launched a series of scary dreams that drove me to the comfort of my parents bed for many years. This nightmare, which I can clearly recall, happened when I was only 2 years old. I was in my crib sleeping when all of a sudden a German Shepherd tore through the bottom of the crib. With its large head sticking out from the hole in the crib, the dog was snapping at me and tried to bite me. To protect myself from it, I crouched quivering in the corner of the crib. To escape the vicious beast, I woke up.

While my mom remembers that I had this dream, she doesn’t remember when I started talking about it. And she remembers associating it with one day when she was taking a walk with me in a stroller. She recalls that I had spotted a large dog. She doesn’t remember if the dog had come up close to me. The dog certainly didn’t try to bite me. I don’t remember this encounter with the dog, but I do know that I was a highly sensitive child. Other than this rendezvous with the pooch, I was barely around dogs as a kid, except for when I would visit my father’s parents who lived close by. They had two German Shepherds fenced off in the front yard, which I had to walk past before entering their home. In addition, my paternal grandparents owned a pizzeria where my father worked. My dad worked long days, every day of the week. As a child, I looked forward to spending time with my dad when he was home. Plus, I might have been a bit possessive about it when I was a toddler, because when I was young I tended to get that way with those I loved.