A Pen is Not for Play

CHEWY: I didn’t know what all the fuss was about until it was too late. I love it when I hear a truck stop in front of our house and footsteps coming closer tell me a package is arriving. This time it was a big box. Probably too big for treats, but I can hope. I tried to help her get into it, without success. In a few minutes she had this thing with wheels put together. It sat in the living room for a few days and then, she opened the front door and took it outside. Wait! What about me, your little buddy? Sure enough, she picked me up and put me into the thing she calls a stroller. Then she wheeled me down the sidewalk for a weird walk. Hey, when do I get to pee? That was a short walk, but I had no idea what was coming next.

The stroller sat there for days. Then another box arrived. I greeted the man on the other side of the door with a rousing bark. The box was tall and skinny. And maybe heavy, because she dragged it into the house. She opened it immediately and dumped a long skinny cloth bag onto the floor. Then she opened the bag and dumped out a contraption with legs and a couple of wheels. She struggled with that for a while until suddenly there was this boxy thing standing on the floor. And she put me into it! Huh? 

I like to explore boxes, but I had no idea what was coming.  She took me out of the playpen left it next to the stroller. Next thing I knew, she was feeling sad and we were driving to the vet. He’s a nice man who sits on the floor with me once in a while, in between poking and prodding. The ladies in the hospital put me in a kennel and gave me shots and cut off some of my fur and stuck things into me. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew I was kind of awake and wanting to throw up and I couldn’t feel one of my legs. 

Hours and hours went by. They talked to me and petted me and took me out once in a while but I just wanted to go home. Soon it was night and I couldn’t believe I was stuck in this awful place. They offered food, but that was not what I wanted. HOME! Please?

In the morning, still groggy, I was awake enough to tell them to get me out of there. So I barked. And barked some more. Next thing I knew, they stuck a pill down my throat and I drifted off to sleep. It was a long, sad day. I cried for my human mom. Am I ever going to see her again? 

They got me out of that infernal cage, at last, and took me outside and there she was in our car, as if none of this awful stuff had happened to me! She took me home, and what do you know, she put me down in that playpen. And I’m stuck there all day! No play going on here, folks! I’m tired and hungry and shaking and my leg is back, but it hurts and I can’t move it. Going out in the stroller is the only way I’m getting a walk, and being carried to the yard to pee is just not my idea of what a tough guy like me should be doing!

4 thoughts on “A Pen is Not for Play

  1. Thanks, Lorraine. I am having a tough time with this site, so forgive me if this is a duplicate. I hope you’ve seen my new novel, Schooled: Confessions of a Rookie Vice Principal. I’d love to hear what your’e up to!

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