By Winston Churchill
Since I was little, Master, whose name is Top-Dog, would sit on the couch with Mommy, Tall-Boy, and Peep. On their laps they stared at glow-trays or Books. I know what Books are, because one day my teeth ached and I wanted to chew, so I chewed a Book, and Top-Dog taught me what a Book was and not to eat them. Even though the house is covered in Books—on the tables and desks, even on the walls, I don’t eat them, because Books are what the family wants to talk about.
I don’t know why.
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| Winston Churchill |
Their every moment, when not hunting for food outside our when they are in the doghouse, is spent reading Books and sometimes looking at their glow-trays. They once had a giant window with a strange light that they starred at, but it’s gone and they sit and look at Books more.
One day, Tall-Boy left. I sat at the front door and waited. And waited. And WAITED. I missed him so much! Days. Months. Oh BOY! I heard his footsteps, and he opened the door. It’s Tall-Boy. No wait, he’s Taller-Boy! And so strong! He sat on the couch, took more Books from a bag, and talked about them. And the family looked so interested.
I sat on his lap.
Top-Dog started looking at the glow-tray a lot. He’s a little grumpy, and Mommy walks me.
One day, a single sheet of paper came that made the family sad. Top-Dog worked on the glow-tray some more. And again, more sad sheets. And more looking at Books and glow-trays. And more discussions. Mommy and Peep (Tall-Boy left again, but I think he’ll be back with more Books to talk about) are giving Top-Dog kind words. I can tell the comments mean a lot to Top-Dog.
Another sad sheet, and this time Top-Dog was really sad. He didn't seem to know what to do. I sat with him, but he wasn't in the mood to do anything. Not glow-tray, not Books, not talking to Mommy or Peep. It was time for a drastic action. I took his favorite Book and bit into it. He jumped up and snatched the Book away and called me BadDog. The book fell open. He picked it up at looked at it for a few moments. He started crying. I couldn't help but wag my tail and nudge him, because crying comes before everything. He holds me for a bit.
He started back on his glow-tray, and then one day, he stopped.
He was so happy. A Book arrived. But this book was different.
It had his picture on it.
It makes him happy. And now, I have to sit at a glow-tray and help him type stories. But I don’t mind. It’s like the old days. With one difference. Every now and again, a new Book comes with his picture on it. And then it’s time to party.
I’m glad he didn’t give up.
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