When I got to close to the cat, he threw his paw at me and, with claws outstretched, slit my eyelid right up the center. My mom, suspicious as to why I was so silent, found me in the bathroom and knew pretty much right away what had happened. I was then taken to Crossroads where I was strapped to a table with only my eye showing. The doctors numbed my eye with a small syringe, which proved to be very painful, and proceeded to give me the one and only stitch that I would ever receive. This experience is what I believe to be at the core of my irrational fear of needles, and maybe it’s why I haven’t taken an interest in music.