Dear Calvin,
DEAR CALVIN
Thursday, 2 April 2015
RESCUED!
Tuesday, 10 February 2015
ESCAPE FROM DOG HELL (1)
Dear Calvin,
When I woke up after the 2Legs hit me in the face with a stick, I was lying on my side in a cage. My mouth was dry, except for the coppery taste of blood. Everything hurt, not just my head - even my skin hurt, because it felt like someone had grabbed my hair and dragged me.
Where am I? What is this? It’s not home - OldMan never locks me up, NEVER. He wouldn’t dare.
An involuntary cry escaped me. There was moaning and crying all around. It seemed as if I was surrounded by a large number of 4Legs and ChaseChomps (Editor: Arthur means “dogs” and “cats”), all of them terrified and suffering.
Everywhere I heard cries of “I want to go home! I want to go HOME!” “Where are my 2Legs?” “Why am I here?” And everywhere I heard…”I’m AFRAID…”
I had never smelled so much urine in one place. And almost every single drop spoke of fear, hunger, loneliness, desperation.
It seemed as if I had descended to the lower levels of Dante’s InFarto! (Editor: Arthur once ate a copy of OldMan’s book Dante’s Inferno. But one can only imagine the flames and sulphurous emissions that erupt from his rear end when he’s upset.)
(Editor's note: click on above photo to see what a small INFARTO looks like.)
It seemed worse than my worst nightmares when I howl in my sleep and runrunrun on my dog bed but don't go anywhere. Except that I was awake and not on a nice soft dog bed. I felt like crying myself. No OldMan. No Sage. Crying and terrible misery all around me.
And then I heard a soft voice next to me: "Hey, Bud, you okay? You sound a little rough!"
I couldn't see him because a wall separated us. And I sure as heck wasn't used to talking to another 4Legs other than to have the usual conversation: "Shut up!" "YOU shut up!" "No, YOU SHUT UP!" You know how it goes. It can go on for hours with the 4Legs down the street.
I said, "Huh? Who's that?"
And this gentle voice said, "HECTOR if I know!" "Nyuck!"
Dumb joke, I thought. But I was to find that this character would be essential to my survival and become my good friend.
Yours, Arthur TheBad Airedale
(NEXT: ESCAPE FROM DOG HELL 2)
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
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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