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Manic_Skafe refreshed my memory.
Kindergarten. It was the last year before I started first grade, so I must have been 6 years old. Our class was on our daily park picnic/walk thing. I noticed a group of my friends down the grass field circling around something. When I came closer, I saw that they were surrounding a gutted a cat and were poking at its organs with sticks. When I asked what was going on, one of them told me that hey saw the cat expel blood (don't exactly remember from which end) and die. So, they decided to see what's inside. Back then I wasn't phobic of carcasses, so...I joined in. Kids, huh? I still don't know if they were the ones who killed the cat or if they just found it like that.
I've always thought of this moment as a starting point of my phobia.
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Maturity is knowing you were an idiot in the past. Wisdom is knowing that you'll be an idiot in the future. Common sense is knowing that you should try not to be an idiot now. - J. Jacques
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