Wednesday, July 16, 2008

A Word or Two from Rebel's Pets

Rebel’s been writing about me in her diary Rebel in Blue Jeans so it’s only fair, I get to write about her too. Just because I’m a dog doesn’t mean I can’t tell my side of the story. So here goes.

Told by Lucky.

I was minding my own business one day, playing with my rubber ball, tossing it in the air, chasing it, just being a typical puppy, when my owner picked me up, put me in the car, and said we were going for a drive. I yapped my gratitude cause I love to ride in the car. Or I used to. That day was different though.

I stuck my nose out the window and snapped at the wind blowing in my face as the car zoomed along. Instead of going to the bank though, where the teller always gave me a milk bone which I loved, we drove way out in the country. There wasn’t a house in sight.

Mmm. I thought we were playing a new game, so I wagged my tail in excitement.
Then my owner pulled the car off the road, opened the door, and set me on the ground. I waited for him to get out of the car to see what the new game was. But he closed the door and drove away. I ran after him for a short distance, but my legs got tired and I had to stop. Nobody told me the middle of the road was a bad place to rest, but I soon found out.

This car zipped around the corner and before I could move I felt a horrible pain in my back and leg. I whined that I was hurt. But the car kept going. I couldn’t walk so I just lay there in the road. The sun was hot. I was thirsty. Another car went by, but didn’t stop.

Then the sky started to get dark. I heard some weird noises. I wanted my nice soft bed in my house. They’d come back for me now. I waited. But they didn’t come back. Then this pickup drove past, stopped, backed up. A girl got out, picked me up, and told the boy driving the pickup the vet’s office was closed, but she’d fix my leg. She said she thought it was broken, whatever that means.

They took me to her house, and Rebel–she told me that was her name and the boy called her Rebel–put a splint–another of her words on my leg–gave me something she said would make me feel better, along with some food that was pretty good even though I wasn’t too hungry. The boy, Will, left, but Rebel stayed with me all night, after calling her dad on a cell phone–she told me that’s how she talked to people who were somewhere else–and telling him where she was.

Her dad even came to her animal hospital and scratched my nose. I like him.

Anyhow, Rebel doesn’t know how I got on the highway, and I can’t talk people talk to tell her, but she gave me a home and a new name: Lucky. I like it, and I’m happy happy.

So now you know my story.

Next time we can get hold of Rebel’s diary, Cleo wants to write in it. Ha. You didn’t know animals could write did you. It’s hard since we don’t exactly have fingers like humans, but we’re pretty smart.

BBN (Rebel’s teaching me text messaging.)

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