Thursday 5 February 2015

WHERE AM I?

Dear Calvin,

I'm starting to think that going with the 2Legs with the stick was not the best idea.

When he pulled me into the back of his "SPCA" truck, I hoped that he was going to take me to my own 2Legs, OldMan.

Instead he pushed me into a cage.  A CAGE!  Me, Arthur TheBad Airedale, IN A CAGE!  Even in my subdued stage I was infuriated.

As I told you before, the truck was dark.  It drove along the streets bouncing around and banging me around the cage.  I threw up a couple of times because it made me so sick.  Of course, that didn't help me feel any better about things...depressed, defeated, alone and covered with vomit.

Finally the truck stopped and the 2Legs with the stick slowly opened up the cage.  He made a face, probably at the smell in the cage.  I don't blame him.

He called to me.  "Come here, Boy.  Come on.  Come on."

I just sat there and glared at him.  Who the hell did he think he was?  Only OldMan can tell me what to do (well, actually I don't even listen to HIM).  So I sat there.

I could smell the anger, even over my own smell.  He reached for a stick - I guess the stick with the rope on it.

When he tried to put the rope over my head, this time I didn't let him.  Snarling savagely as my love Sage had taught me to do, I grabbed the rope and bit through it, then snapped the end of the stick off.

The 2Legs shouted something - I don't know what - then took the shorter stick and hit me right between the eyes.  Things got fuzzy and light, and then I don't know what happened.

When I woke up, it seemed that I was in Dog Hell.

Someone is coming!  When I figure out what this place is, I'll send word.





Yours, 

Arthur TheBad Airedale



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