One afternoon about the month of
November, when the weather starts to become nice and the doors and windows can
finally be opened, I was in my room putting on my shoes. I was about seven years old. It was Saturday, it was my day off of school,
and I was going outside to play. I slid
my second shoe on and began to tie the bow.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of the screen door open and then shut,
bouncing as it hit the door jam indicating that it wasn't fully closed. I then heard the sound repeat, a faint
squeaking as it opened and then the hush sound as it closed and bounced on the
door jam once again. The next sound
alarmed me; I heard four little paws tapping across the concrete of the front
porch. I immediately jumped to my feet
and ran to the door. I saw my dog,
Buster, running down the street after another dog that looked like a big mutt
of some sort. It was black, gray, and white.
At that time he probably came up to my hip.
Now, Buster wasn't the smartest dog
ever. Just by the looks of him one could
tell this simple fact. He was an overgrown
Shih-Tzu, so instead of being a small dog, he was a fairly good size, just
below the knee and a little over weight.
His hair was shaggy and usually hung in front of his eyes. His coloring varied a bit, he was a light
brown in the middle and on either end he was mostly white. His head and neck, unfortunately, were the
exact same size. Consequently there was
not a collar that would fit. He also
loved to run as fast as he could when he stepped outside the front door. And since he wasn't the brightest dog, Buster
didn't know how to get back home. This
made things a little risky letting him out of sight when he was in the front
yard.
I ran down the hall and to the front
door, I pushed the screen open, and sprinted after him. I began yelling as loud as I could for my dog
to halt. He didn't even hesitate or even
slow down. He continued on as fast as he
could down the street. I tried
everything to get him to stop.
"Buster, do you want a doggy biscuit? You come back here right now! Buster, I mean it, STOP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs waving my
skinny arms franticly through the air.
Now that was a sight; one large dog followed by a
small dog, and that followed by a lanky child, running down the street I lived
on and around the corner. The first dog
jetted across a busy street to the other side, right behind him, Buster flung
across. As for me, I saw the big white
truck coming down the street. I slowed
down, and stood on the corner of the block.
I was in such a dilemma I didn't want to lose my dog, but, on the other
hand, I didn't want to be flattened to the pavement. I stopped on the corner, frantically calling
out my dog's name, demanding for him to stop.
The driver of the big white truck had probably seen the distress on my
face and kindly let me cross. I darted
past, where I resumed my chase. I
couldn't figure out why the big dumb mutt, that was leading the rest, was running
in the first place. I just wanted him to
stop, and stop sometime soon. We passed
house after house I thought we were never going to stop. I had gained some ground on Buster but I was
still pretty far behind. We had run
about a quarter of a mile, and I just wanted to slow down. I had grown tired from the physical and
emotional strain, but the chase went on.
I knew I couldn’t stop for fear I’d lose my dog forever. About four blocks down the road, the dog
stopped in front of a house. I assumed
it was his own. I thought, "Wow, a
dog that knows how to get home!" I
only wished that Buster knew where home was and then I wouldn’t have had to
worry about him. But Buster didn’t know
how to get home, and that's exactly why I stayed on his tail.
I grabbed Buster, picked him up and started back
home. I didn't trust him to walk with me,
so I carried him. I must have been a
tough little girl because Buster wasn't light. I bet he weighed at least 25 pounds. On the way home, I had to stop and catch my
breath a few times. The school was about
half way between my house and where the chase ended. By the time I reached the school, I was so
tired. I plopped Buster down in the
grass. He was laying there on his back
looking straight up at me. I put my fists
down right next to his long ears, and leaned over him. I looked him straight in his puppy dog face I said,
"Do you see what you make me do? Don't you ever do this again!" I scolded him as if he understood. Once I caught my breath I hoisted him back
into my arms and finished the journey home.
When I finally arrived home I walked
in, and set Buster down. I then set out
to find someone to tell my exciting story.
I went to my sister, who had a friend over, but they didn't seem as
thrilled as I thought they should be. At
least my sister should have understood that if it wasn't for me our dog would
have been long gone. I mean, I didn't
necessarily want to boast but come on; I had saved the day, or at least just
the dog. I was proud of my
accomplishment anyway. I had learned
that I was a strong little girl and that I could persevere through a lot. I could keep running after something I really
wanted and go through the hardships of carrying it home.
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