City Dawg Goes Country Dog
It's pretty awesome lying here on the farm. You wouldn't believe all the different smells. Never mind the smells, you gotta check out the sights! Always somethin' happening, trust me.
The only bad thing about living out here is the stupid chain. I'd like to know whose bright idea it was to tie me down out here. This place has its moments, don't get me wrong, but I'd like to be able to run around a bit more. They let me go running now and then. Man, I run for miles when I can! Especially in the road, I can really get some miles in. Just do me a favor, though, watch out for cars! They'd just as soon run a a dawg over out here on this County Road. It's feast or famine. I guess I have no say in my freedom. It stinks.
I'm a city dog, you know. My mom was a pit bull named Daisy. She was a good mom to me and my brothers and sisters. It wasn't Daisy's fault her puppies went to "free homes". I never met my dad. Well, I'm babbling. To make a long story short, I was given to a friend of a friend when I was 10 weeks old. I guess I used to chew a lot back then, and I used the toilet inside one too many times. They dropped me off out here in the country when I was 6 months old. But there's more to it. Seeing that I told you this much, I might as well tell you the whole story. I'm certainly not in a rush, all tied to this dog house out here. I don't see many people anymore. I'm so bored here at times.
I wound up running around for a while in the woods at first. You won't catch me out there again! This pack of dog-like animals charged me. Coyotes, they called themselves. Bad news. I worry about them still, since I'm pretty much a sitting duck tied out here. But I can handle myself. My mom was a pit and my dad must have been a big guy, 'cause I got his size. Good thing for me.
I wound up finding a house and got a free meal. First time I ate anything besides grass and tree bark in days. They were nice people, wanted to keep me, but they "worked too much", whatever than means. Afraid I'd get bored, said it wouldn't be fair to me. Between you and me, I wish they'd kept me.
The M.A.C.O brought me to the dog pound. Pretty nice joint compared to the city slammer. I got walked, brushed, fed, and ready for this? They actually pet me and gave me a name! They called me Scooter, and it's stuck with me even today. Come to think of it, I kind of wish I was still there, too.
I'd like to chew this chain off, but I can't. I have a good mind to leave for good next time they let me run. I just hate those coyotes!
So there I sat, at the Pound, and this nice family comes in with a bunch of kids. They'd been at the pet store earlier in the day, and had gotten mad, Something about the dawgs costing a thousand dollars, yada, yada, yada, that's what happens when you want one of those purebred yuppies. Us pound dawgs only cost fifty bucks, and we come with a cool looking certificate to get fixed and vaccinated. Yeah, that's right, I'm neutered, so easy on the jokes. I'm sure you're not perfect, either. Doesn't make me any less of a dawg, let me tell you, actually calmed me down a bit. Which is good, considering I'm stuck on the end of this chain.
So that's my story. I come to this beautiful house with a nice big yard. My people even kept my name. Then they tied me outside. I don't know why they even got me. I'm a living creature with feelings, not some stuffed toy. The farm animals are supposed to be outside, not me. Dawgs and cats go in the house. Am I wrong? Not last time I checked.
I keep hoping the guy from the Pound will find out that I'm sad. He'd take me back, I'm sure of it. He'd keep an eye on this farm, too. I can only see one house from here, but I bark at the lady all the time to give him a call. Figure if I bark enough,she'll get the hint. I even got the number, 203-879-1414, ext 151,
I appreciate being adopted, but they should know that I have feelings and I deserve respect. So that pretty much sums it up. If you see a dog like me being tied down, please call that guy from the dog pound. Sometimes you gotta help a dawg out. I'd call myself if I could get a hold of one of those fancy cell phones. And if I had opposable thumbs. Well, thanks for listening. Don't forget that number. You might need it one day. Take it easy!
~Scooter
