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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1626170-The-point-of-view-of-a-stray-dog
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by ashbee Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #1626170
This is going to be a story of a stray dog- in its point of view
1st copy



It was another one of those days. I was walking on all fours in the alley, looking for my meal. I would knock down a couple of trash cans until I found something I would actually like. Hey, I can't complain. I'm living the life! No more baths! Then I always remember the wonderful meals that I would get back at the farm. Now I am on my own, living on things thrown away by selfish people. I live everyday like its my last, avoiding those green large trucks with those people who capture you in these nets. I shiver at the thought of being caught. I hide behind a bin as I watch a pooch be caught. The victim of the night, I call it. I see her struggle in the man's grip but the man only holds tighter. Should I help her? Or should I stay here away from the danger? I know that it would be wrong of me not to do something to help her, so I bark a loud threatening growl. The man seems to quiver back at the sudden sound, dropping the pooch, who lands on her feet and scampers off into the night. I am quiet now for the man knows of my whereabouts. I can feel an itch but I do not dare scratch. I see the man try to find me, discover what had startled him. I shut my eyes hoping not to be found. I opened my eyes as I heard a car driving off. He is gone now, I am safe.



2nd copy(Yeah not that different)

It was another one of those days. I was walking on all fours in the alley, looking for my meal. I would knock down a couple of trash can until I found something I would actually like. Hey, I can't complain. I'm living the life! No more baths! Then I always remember the wonderful meals that I would get back at the farm. Now I am on my own Living on things thrown away by selfish people. Living every day like its my last, avoiding those green large trucks with those people who capture you in these nets. I shiver at the thought of being caught. I hide behind a bin as I watch a pooch be caught. The victim of the night, I call it. I can see her struggle in the man's firm grip but the man only holds tighter. Should I help her? Or should I stay here away from the danger? Knowing that it would be wrong of me not to do something to help her, I bark a loud threatening growl. The man seems to quiver back at the sudden sound, dropping the pooch, who lands on her feet and scampers off into the night. I am quiet now for the man knows of my whereabouts. I can feel an itch but I do not dare scratch. The man looks around, trying to find me. Scared, my eyes shut. As I hear foot steps walking out, I open my eyes. I hear the roar of a car turning on and driving off. He is gone now, I am safe.
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