A while ago, I published an excerpt from a story by OWL blog reader Sinead. It was so successful I’ve decided to publish the rest of what she sent me. So, by popular demand, here are the opening lines of the story of Longear the dog and her “perilous journey.”
(Note: this part leaves off exactly where the other part I published begins.
Click here to read the rest of the story.)
From the time I was a puppy I have never truly known human love. I hardly knew my mother; I was taken from her at an incredibly early age. After that I was sent to place after place until I found a home. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll start this story from its beginning, a long time ago, when I started my perilous journey.
I remember a lot. No other dog I know can remember as far back as I can. But I still only barely remember my mother. Maybe because most of the time I knew her, my eyes were closed. Strangely, I was born with my ears open. I could hear everything since the time I was born. My first-ever memory takes place just after I was born. I was blind, of course, but I remember my mother licking me and whispering “Longear.” And from that moment on Longear was my name even though my ears are the shortest of any dog I know.
I can hardly remember anything else. I have a few fuzzy memories of my siblings, even though I can’t remember actually seeing them. The only other clear memory I have of those days was the day I was taken. I remember only having opened my eyes a few days before. I was snuggling with my mom when a giant hand came and grabbed me. I struggled to get out but was still too weak and the grip was so strong. I remember hearing my mother cry out “No! Bring her back!” but the human shouted “Shut up!” and kicked her. I was terrified. I was crying and was shoved into a cage. I was then taken away to some of the most turbulent times of my life.
I was first taken to a family with lots of very small and fast-moving humans. I had a very small house behind the human house. I got fed once a day, and had a bowl of warm water. It was all right, not a totally awful place to live, but still not incredible. I was still very small. I remember being the smallest of all my brothers and sisters. The large humans, Mom and Daddy, didn’t care much for me. The little ones played with me 24/7, but not games I particularly enjoyed. The smallest one, Marina, carried me from place to place by my neck, waist, or tail. But I was so small; I couldn’t do anything about it. The second smallest was named Tim; he would stand at the edge of the yard and throw me in the direction of Mom’s garden, and try to hit the plants he didn’t like. I would run as fast as I could as soon as I hit the ground, but Mom’s garden was very big, and I couldn’t run very fast, being a runt. Tim’s least favourite plants always seemed to be in the middle, so I got into lots of trouble for being in the garden. Whenever I was in trouble I was kicked.
The middle two were about the same age, and they looked awfully alike. I couldn’t keep them straight in my head. Their names were Alex and Jesse, both girls, and I often mixed one up with the other one. Which was incredible bad luck, because Alex was the best of the small humans. She would feed me and give me water and play games I liked, like chasing a stick and bringing it back. It was always a very small stick, because I was a very small dog. But Jesse would push me around and throw me and call me names and ignore me completely even though I barked and whined and gave her legs head-butts, which hurt some. Sometimes I mistook her as Alex and thought she didn’t like me anymore, but then Alex would come and pick me up and pet me for a minute until she wanted to do something else. Then she would push me off of her and walk away, so I couldn’t help but think she only played with me when she was bored. She was always busy, so I only played with her about once every three days. The rest of the time was spent being tossed or held wrong or ignored. Or spending time with the other small dog in the house, a black and brown and grey puppy that for some reason did everything I did. She was behind a sheet of glass so even though I could see her mouth moving I couldn’t hear her.
The oldest of the shorter humans, Curtis, wasn’t home most of the time, so I didn’t know him very well. I was there for about a week before my droppings started to multiply in the yard. I had noticed that normally they were gone when I woke up in the morning for the first few days, but then it stopped. Soon I was walking in my own poop every time I was outside. I tried to stay inside as much as possible, but whenever Mom or Daddy saw me inside, they shoved me outside, and I had to walk around in grossness until they left the back door open and I could sneak back in.
There you go!
If Sinead is so kind, maybe we’ll get to see the rest of the story soon as well (hint, hint…!). Also, lots of other OWL blog readers have said they’re going to send in stories, but I haven’t received any yet. If you have a story you want me to read or maybe post on the blog, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Have a great weekend!