The active ingredient in Mederma Scar Gel for Kids is Allantoin, a chemical compound first isolated by two German chemists in 1837 from uric acid. It may be extracted from the comfrey plant or from mammal urine. It is known for its moisturizing properties. The secondary ingredient is Cepalin, or onion bulb extract. The gel-like substance comes out of its tube purple but eventually rubs in clear. I remember it smelled like grapes. 

For two months, I went to sleep with an enormous gauze bandage taped to my chin. I went to school wearing a smaller bandage. I would like to say that I handled the situation with grace, but I loved the attention and pity I received from my classmates and teachers and completely milked the bite for the duration it took to heal. I told the story over and over, glamorizing each detail. I had very little shame as a third-grader. 

My description of the pain was an invention. In the moment, high on adrenaline, all I felt was shock that this tiny dog had ripped through my chin with its teeth and needle-like claws. Inspecting my face in the bathroom mirror, I was more concerned about the possibility I might look like a vampire for the rest of my life than I was with numbing the two gashes on my face, which began at the edge of my bottom lip and stretched to the bottom of my face. When I smiled, it looked like I was bleeding from my canines. Running my tongue along the inside of my mouth, I could taste where the skin was broken. 

I must clarify how tiny this dog was—one hand could wrap around his midsection to pick him off the ground. He yapped and had whiskers like an old man. He belonged to the girlfriend of the mother of a kid in my class who took music lessons with my dad. One weekend in the winter, we were invited to visit their house in Vermont for one of those big parties where the adults talk in one room and their kids watch movies in another. I was ill the entire drive up. 

When we arrived, we were given a tour of the house. The upstairs bedroom, where my sisters and I would be sleeping, smelled like snow. Secretly, my dad captured and released two blue mud wasps trapped between the glass of the window and the screen, so that the buzzing would not freak us out in the night. 

We made our way to the living room, which was furnished with a gorgeous shag rug. Under absolutely no circumstances, our hosts informed us, was the dog to step a paw in this room. The rug was very nice and he might chew it up, or pee on it, or sneeze near it. 

Guests started to trickle in by the dozens. To this day, I don’t know where they all parked their cars. I hugged my friends and their parents and stared in disbelief as my principal grazed the charcuterie board. 

Also in attendance was Dana, who worked the front desk at my K-12 school and who also coached the annual Christmas pageant and our cheerleading team and was, herself, a retired cheerleader who enjoyed performing stunts at gatherings such as this one. She was running full speed towards her husband, who was laying flat on his back, arms upright and ready to catch her dirty-dancing style, when I wandered into the room looking for soda. 

I don’t think I ever blamed the dog. I, also, would have been curious to investigate the merriment and commotion taking place in the living room, especially if I was the only one not invited. With all eyes turned to Dana’s tumbling spectacle, he took the opportunity to breach the doorway. In an attempt to be a gracious guest, I took it upon myself to coax him away from the rug. Maybe I scared him. Maybe I provoked him. 

Maybe: He was tired of being excluded from things.

Surrounding parents instructed me to keep pressure on the wound with a stack of tissues. Someone searched for a First Aid kit. Probably, I should have gotten stitches, but after a Google Maps search, I was informed that the nearest hospital was three hours away. Plus it was snowing. Plus it was windy. The other kids thought I lost a tooth. Dramatically, I removed the layers of tissues to expose my bloody chin. They screamed, to my perverse delight. I spent the rest of the evening laying in the dark in the bedroom. 

In the morning, I forgave the dog. I scratched him on the head and said it wasn’t his fault. My dad was horrified. Our hosts were relieved. 

Today, the scars are only very faintly visible. I’m a walking ad for Mederma. Sometimes, when I’m washing my face, I trace my finger along the lines. Otherwise, I haven’t thought seriously about the bite in years—until a few months ago, during a rare dreaming episode; a flash of teeth, dark, dilated pupils. I have no explanation for this.