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The Dangers Of Playing With Animals In My Family

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Animals have been a part of my family's life before I was even born. According to my mother, we used to have two dogs by the names of Junior and Tiki. My family had a hard time opening up to the dogs apparently, as in Vietnam, my family had always been wary of them due to fear of rabies or other diseases that they were believed to have carried. However, when my uncle decided to bring them home, my older cousins ignored the warnings of their parents and embraced the little puppies. As I grew up, I occasionally had the pleasure of playing with Junior at my grandmother's house. Seeing as how he was half my size, I was always afraid of him despite his innocent appearance. My grandmother had a more apathetic view of the new family pet, as she had always hated animals since, at least in her opinion, they were a "waste of time." But Junior had slowly crept his way into her heart and became a part of her life. From waking her up to taking naps with her on the couch, the small Beagle-Chihuahua would follow her everywhere she went. When he passed away, my grandmother teared up and said she didn't want to have dogs in the house anymore. I, on the other hand, decided the opposite. I begged my mother as much as an eight-year-old child possibly could, from when she woke me up for school to when she tucked me into bed. I wanted to have a friend like my grandmother did, one that would always be happy to play with me no matter the time or day.
On my 9th birthday my mother brought home a
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