I knew he hated shots, though I wasn't quite sure why. Either way, I was very, very careful with his wounds, and only used shots when there was no other way. As he had this nearly irrational fear of needles, I didn't care much about them. I didn't love them - who does? - but I surely didn't hate them as much as he did.<br/><br/>By our telepathic connection, I could pick up a few bits of his memories, and that justified his fear. I guess I should be happy that he didn't fear me, for being a vet. As he curled up, I put the shot away and knelt next to him. My hands touched his fur, and I kissed his head.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, puppy, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you, you know. I love you, okay? Please, please, forgive me. It was for your own good, puppy."