A Dog’s Life

I am born

The puppies keep popping out, until the runt arrives.

The mother licks them all, keeps them safe, but the runt struggles, shunted aside, unable to push through for milk.

I am a sucker for the underdog so I help him. After weeks of watching, assisting, I can hardly walk away now. Rather than let the runt struggle I decide to take it home with me.

He may be small, but he is tough, tenacious.

I know the owner mind, she doesn’t want them anyway. But I do, a fighter like that, well, he will be a great guard dog.



I love her

I love her. She makes me happy. She walks along the river with me.

I look up to her. When she comes home I want to call out to her. Beckon her forward into a close embrace.

She loves me. She feeds me. Cleans me. Let’s me lay on her cold feet to warm them up.

She is my leader. My confidant. She talks and I listen. And I feel wonderful when she gives me attention.

I miss her when she is gone and I feel fulfilled when she is here.

So much so, that my tail won’t stop wagging.

Gone missing

My sweet leader is gone.

She cared and loved me.

But now, there is only him. The kicker, the yeller, the abuser.

I spend more time outside now, on the chain, with dirty water and little food.

He wants me to scare people, to menace them.

I can’t fail.

He wants me angry, to hate, to push everyone away.

I want to protect, I want a pack. A reason to protect.

Why do I menace everyone?

I want to care for them, protect them, not to scare them.

But I have to be mean, or the abuser will beat me.


Oh, to run through the paddocks.

To pounce and leap, bound after the rabbits through overlong grass.

Feeling my muscles stretch, to push strongly forward.

But it is a dream.

I look down the chain. Restricting my run, my distance. If I run I am stopped when the chain stops.

I have a job to do. To cause fear in the intruders. To bark with ferocity, making children wide eyed, and adults wary of approach.

It is my job.

I want to be stroked and held. To feel affection. Be connected to a pack.

But I am here to guard.

The Flies

The flies get into my ears, regardless of how often I twitch them. They surround my eyes, drinking from their edges, ignoring the blinks. They dance around the edge of my mouth, irritating me with their moving feet.

I am hot. The kennel offers some relief, but the flies, oh the flies.

I am waiting for her. She brings water and food, releases me from my chain. Then I get a hug before I take off for a game of hide and seek.

Such joy.

But before I know it, she is gone, and the flies, oh those horrible flies.

The Visitor

I can’t see who approaches in the dark. I bark but she keeps approaching.

I am stretching the chain so hard my front legs lift, it helps me look big, feel strong, but I am fearful.

Nobody keeps coming, nobody comes close.

I increase my fear, embolden my anger at the approach, but she keeps coming.

What is wrong with her?

I don’t want to bite her, but I will. I have too.

She is close.

“Sammy, it is me” she whispers.

I keep barking, surely a trick.

She shines the light on her face.

It is her, my love.

The Fear Stays

I growl without reason now.

She places the food in a bowl, shifts it closer using a stick. I can’t blame her, I still try to bite.

I watch her while I eat. She still has the stick; will she use it?

She sits on the edge of reach. Every day, she begs me closer, hand outreached, ready to stroke my head.

Gently. A caress.

I long for it. Yet I growl. Bare my teeth each time. And her hand beckons me forward.

I want the caress. I move closer, head down, shifting slowly.

Her hand moves, touches me.


2017-10-12T20:30:05+00:00 A Dog's Life, Serial Stories|


  1. Ethan August 27, 2017 at 8:13 am - Reply

    I am not liking th I s so much r I gut now. If this is just another abuse story lose my email.

    • Nibble Reads August 27, 2017 at 8:51 am - Reply

      Stories are about characters who work through challenges, sometimes overcoming them, sometimes not.
      Stories can be viewed as downright terrible in its telling but be used to express things that really happen in the world and be used as a means to combat what happens.
      Stories about dogs who are treated poorly should be told because it happens and people need to find a way to go through what dogs go through as if the reader is the dog, if a story about a dog going through hard times inspires one person to do something about it, isnt that a good thing?
      This story, should you follow it to the end (twelve parts in total) will end in a way that I believe you will happy with. It isnt just about the times the dog goes through tough times, it is one where it shows how a dog affects the lives of the people they are involved with in good ways. It is your call if you want to wait until the end.

      Concerning your email. You are not on my email list so I cant remove you. You are either a member of the Facebook page, in which case you can unlike the page, or you clicked the advert for this story, something that shows up in your Facebook feed and I have no control over whether it shows up or not.
      Personally, I hope you stick it out. If you want to read the entire story, email me or comment back to this and let me know and I will send the entire story to you to see what I mean, in the hope that the next time you start reading one of these series you will be more willing to walk the hard times of the character until the end.

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