This was one of my earliest memories...so I wrote a poem about it. The poem is entitled Arson Snuffed Out, as I like to think the experience scared me off becoming one.

We had a beagle named Trigger.
When I was a little girl.
He curled up in my Dad’s work van.
Like a black, white and gold pastry.
One day, bored, I lit a match.
The flame roared quietly.
I was in trouble.
I snuffed it out beside his fur.
And waited for the howl.
He snored on.
I was reprieved.
But I never forgot.

K M Pearce, Nurturing the Roots