This dogs life

This is a little short story I wrote last year, someone might like it.

This dog’s life

The footsteps approached.  My stomach turned over with
dread.  “How much more of this pain can I take?  I haven’t been able to see
anything clearly, for days.  Lifting my head, I sniffed the air, was it the male or the female?  Oh no, the male.  I knew the pain would be worse today; at least
the female gave me a shot to ease the pain.
The male considered that this “diluted the results,” whatever that
meant.  I struggled to remember my old life.

Those happy days.  That wonderful day I won the
prized rosette.  “Best beagle in show”.  How proud my young master had been as he paraded me around the show-ring.  That was a red-letter day; I was so
pleased to make my master happy.  We’d had such fun together, especially the trips to the seaside or the local park.  I shivered as I remembered that last time in the park.  The master was having fun on his skateboard on the ramps. For a while, I was content to lie in the shade and watch him.  But the scents on the light breeze were so
tantalizing, inviting me to explore.

Following the scents this way and that.  I frolicked through the fragrant grass, chasing a rabbit scent here, a fox’s scent there, not noticing how far I had strayed. Then the van pulled up beside me.  There was nothing threatening about it, I had seen similar vans before and the master had never warned me of any danger.  When the red meat was thrown out I approached it cautiously, sniffing at it carefully.
I had smelled scents like this many times at home, but they were
strictly off limits to me.  When the net fell over my head I was completely taken off-guard.  I didn’t even have time to struggle before I was bundled into the van.

The yapping of dogs, in the gloom, scared me, and I tried to escape the strong hands holding me, but we were well on our way by this time.  Becoming accustomed to the poor light, the cowering dogs became visible.  I had seen dogs like these at local dog shows, and in our local park.  The old master next door to my master’s house had one just like the small black and white terrier.    We were driven into a large compound with many doors leading off it.  The man with a white coat came out and examined us one by one.  We were led off through different doors, and I never saw my travelling companions again.  I was led to this room, never realizing the pain that lay ahead.

The constant bright light made it impossible to count the days.  The white coats poured a liquid in to my eyes and took notes of the pain I felt, and the damage done.  Antidandruff shampoo it was called.   “What was dandruff? Was it a parasite like fleas”?  I remembered when I had been treated for fleas, the female master of my master would not let me into the house until I was doused with a foul smelling liquid and then shampooed. I was
kept out of the big house with many rooms, for two days and two nights.  It was no hardship to sleep in the small house at the end of the garden.  It was
warm and dry, and full of earthy smells and interesting creatures that scuttled
over my outstretched paws.

The man examined my eyes.   My heart lifted as I heard him say to the
brown coat he called porter.  “Just as I thought, he’s useless for further experiments; you may as well put him down.”  Put me down!  Were they letting me go? Happiness surged
through me as I was wheeled out of this dreadful place.  I was going home.  I knew my missing eyesight would not be a problem in my master’s garden.  I was
familiar with every blade of grass, and every scent.  I could find my way around by smell alone.  Already I could feel the wind in my fur and the sun on my back, my young master and the big masters will make my eyes
better again.   I’m going home.

The end


About margaretmarymurphy

I'm an elderly woman (1 husband 6 children 15 grandchildren & 1 great grandson ) I love talking, writing, looking at art & I take a porcelein painting class & can't for the day I get my own kiln.
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3 Responses to This dogs life

  1. Aww Margaret, I read that with my dog here beside me recovering from his surgery and I filled up.

    Loved it, I didn’t understand what you meant when you said “the female master of my master” of course 😉


  2. Marie McKenna says:

    Margaret,what a terribly sad story. Now I’m going to read all your stories. Didn’t realise this is what you meant on your profile when you said you dabbled in short story writing. Well done.

  3. Sad Margaret…very sad, sad, sad. Brilliant. But sad *sniff* 🙂

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