By Siena DeMink
My brothers are in the living room goofing around, and I am in my bedroom; it is the only quiet place in the house. The family dog, Buddy, comes bounding playfully into my room. “Hi, Buddy,” I say.
In response, Buddy stares directly into my eyes, the drool creating a lake on my bedroom floor and says in a muffled voice, “FEED ME!”
At first, I am like, oh, my brothers are tricking me. Then I look and see that none of my brothers are around! Holy crap, I think. Buddy is actually talking to me, which is a bit scary, so I slowly inch away. Buddy then pounces on me and pins me down to the ground. In a panic I yell “HELP! HELP! HELP!”
My mom rushes into the room and asks, “What is all the commotion?”, only to see that the dog is licking me. That evening, I talk to my parents about the incident while making dinner. They think I have gone mad and set up an appointment with Dr. Murphy tomorrow. I HATE Dr. Murphy. She always makes me uncomfortable. Usually, I tell her a white lie so she will stop pushing my buttons and let me go home.
Later that night, I wake up to find a feral dog staring at me with a pang of hunger deep in his eyes. “Buddy?” I question, with a quivery voice. Then with a jolt, I realize that it wasn't the food on the table Buddy was hungry for. Looks like I won’t be seeing Dr. Murphy after all.
My brothers are in the living room goofing around, and I am in my bedroom; it is the only quiet place in the house. The family dog, Buddy, comes bounding playfully into my room. “Hi, Buddy,” I say.
In response, Buddy stares directly into my eyes, the drool creating a lake on my bedroom floor and says in a muffled voice, “FEED ME!”
At first, I am like, oh, my brothers are tricking me. Then I look and see that none of my brothers are around! Holy crap, I think. Buddy is actually talking to me, which is a bit scary, so I slowly inch away. Buddy then pounces on me and pins me down to the ground. In a panic I yell “HELP! HELP! HELP!”
My mom rushes into the room and asks, “What is all the commotion?”, only to see that the dog is licking me. That evening, I talk to my parents about the incident while making dinner. They think I have gone mad and set up an appointment with Dr. Murphy tomorrow. I HATE Dr. Murphy. She always makes me uncomfortable. Usually, I tell her a white lie so she will stop pushing my buttons and let me go home.
Later that night, I wake up to find a feral dog staring at me with a pang of hunger deep in his eyes. “Buddy?” I question, with a quivery voice. Then with a jolt, I realize that it wasn't the food on the table Buddy was hungry for. Looks like I won’t be seeing Dr. Murphy after all.
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