A/N: A while ago, my neighbor's dogs attacked and bit me. I wasn't badly hurt, but I still have a scar on my leg. This is based on what happened a few days later, when I went back.

The Attack

Swallowing my fear, I step forward into the yard, gripping my water pistols tightly.

This will not be like last time.

Calling hello, I hear the barks, the sounds of anger from the dogs.

Slowly, I draw my first gun and level it, waiting to see the owner's reaction.

She voices no objection.

The first dog, the younger, is now feet away.

I fire, hitting him between the eyes.

He stops briefly, surprised.

His brother joins him, now, both barking.

I bring a second water gun from my pocket and fire both, hitting my targets squarely.

They retreat a few steps, as I fire one last time, then they run to the house, tails under their legs.

I lower my pistols, and breathe in victory.