Now I Have a Name
That winter was a brutal one. My fur, matted with ice and
snow, provided little warmth as winter raged on.
The man that lived in the house yelled and kicked at us with
his big boots. The woman threw a cup of food out into the yard every day, but I
had to fight my family for any morsels we discovered in the mud or covered with
snow. I hate digging through the snow to find my food, it freezes my nose. I’ve heard my father’s father say that “these kind of people don’t deserve the loyal companionship of a dog.” There were three generations of my canine family left outside to starve.
I saw a child come and go from the house next door. She looked like she’d like to play with us, but she never came over. At night my family crawled into a hole under a shed to stay warm.
One day a man and woman came to the house. They loaded two of us into their car. I’d never been in a car and it was very scary, but I could tell these were nice people. I never saw my sister or family again, but now I live in a pack with people who love us. I have a name and no one threatens to hurt me. I sleep inside and they feed me every day. Life is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment