“How did you get that scar?”

“I was hit by a dog?”

“You mean attacked?”

“No, hit. In the head. By a Chihuahua. When I was eight.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true. We were on the way to the beach. It was early autumn. Perfect beach weather. Fritzy, was pelting up and down the parcel shelf. We hit another car, head on, and BAM! I got hit by Fritzy.

“My God! Was he alright?”

“Dunno. He ricocheted off my head and out the window. My mother put posters up everywhere: Lost. Chihuahua. Last seen with gravel rash and possibly a headache.”