I was not always scared of dogs.
but I was bitten and chased
and I was scared.
When I was 9, we moved to the States.
my mom started selling out furniture before we even had visas.
our house was condensed into a suitcase
and everything that could not go was put in storage.
If you’ve ever lived in a border state,
you know about the 100-mile checkpoint
where you get to the border again
and are checked and cleared and probed.
again.
When I was 9, we flew to Texas
to a gracious friend's home, who let us stay
and lent us her car
to drive from El Paso to New Mexico.
And we came across the 100-mile checkpoint,
They asked my mom if this was her car
she said no.
They made her get out of the car,
or maybe she was pulled.
as I reached for the door, a man held the handle
shifting his weight onto the door.
I was stuck in the back seat
as the biggest German Sheppard
I had ever seen climbed into the car.
first, the trunk
That’s when I started crying.
I kept asking to be let out, please
please please please let me out
let me leave
please please
please
They wouldn’t
They didn’t
They laughed as the dog climbed into the back seat.
I sobbed,
but all I heard was how they laughed
They laughed as the dog climbed over me and I felt its weight on my legs.
They laughed as I heard its breathing and the rattling of its chain.
They laughed as I smelled its breath.
They let us go.
we drove past the 100-mile checkpoint.
This was our welcome to America.
As an adult, the panic came back
And when things got really bad
I had to go to therapy —
I kept having panic attacks.
And for a decade, I had it under control
I would pet my friend's dogs
And engaged in the socially acceptable commentary on how cute and good they are.
In the last couple of months
the fear has been coming back.
I heard it creep in through the back seat and onto my lap.
But now I can’t quite tell anymore
if the fear is of the dog
or of the men laughing as they hold its leash.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 9:52 PM UTC