In order to protect the innocent, I won’t use names today.
I’ve a new neighbour. We play with a stick and exhaust ourselves. He’s gentle in his play, fun to chase, and an all round good dog. But then…the sun shines in a certain way, and I notice something odd.
“Dude,” I bark, “What’s with your back?”
“The scars?” he barks back.
I sniff his skin but can’t smell anything. The scars are old. “Yeah. They look nasty. Do they hurt?”
“Not anymore.” He gives a little whine as if shaking off a bad memory. “A human poured hot oil on me.”
“Not one of my happier days.”
My skin prickles, and I get all agitated. I don’t like this story. “How did you get away?” I bark.
“I ran and ran. And then I came upon a dog shelter. They took me in and then…” he stops barking to pant, “then, the greatest thing happened.”
He gets distracted by a leaf and runs in circles for a bit.
“What? What?” I bark, bringing him back to the story.
He flops beside me. “Two humans walked into the shelter. The woman said, ‘I love that one.’ And she’s pointing right at me. Can you believe it? I’m covered in bandages. I look pathetic, and she chose me. I instantly love her too.”
“Are they your humans now?”
His tails flops, and there is a shine in his eye. “Forever.”
And here’s a little teaser: I have a big, and I mean big (so I like to exaggerate) role in the book. She even used my name. I’m going to be a famous wheaten terrier.