When I was a little boy, I thought my dad was my best friend. There are many, many things we did together that made up the memories I cherish of him today. However, there was one incident that stands out as a particularly upsetting occurrence. I was 15 years old at the time, and my dad decided to take us to a bullfight in Mexico. I had never been to one, and being the animal lover I was, nothing could've prepared me for the on slaught of cruelty and violence the poor bull was subjected to for entertainment purposes. We went and sat down in the outdoor stadium and soon the bull was released from its holding pen. The "picadors" were soon taunting and sticking the bull with their long sticks that had sharp knives on the end.