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Sunny and the Ankle Biter

Tags: puppy, horse

I was a second grader. I had a fuzzy white puppy. It was a snarling fist-sized ball of sharp teeth.

Three riders trotted in the driveway. My mom rode Sunny, a big golden palomino, up to me.

“Do you want to ride him?” she asked.

“Yes.” She boosted me up and I walked him around. My puppy followed, snarling and biting.

Sunny stopped. I flapped my feet ineffectively to try to get him to go. He ignored me. I didn’t hear my puppy snarling. Peering over Sunny’s back, I saw a fringe of white fur around Sunny’s hind foot.

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