Good Boy

Photo by Tim Easley on Unsplash

He ran through the garden, careful to avoid using his front left paw.  He rolled in the grass, desperate to mask the strange smell the master had put on him. He barked his displeasure at the sky. Just once. He held his tail high as he ran around the property, sniffing the flowers, the grass and anything else on the wind.

Then he heard it. The master was calling.

He whirled around and raced towards the sound. He could see the figure in the distance and it only fueled his speed. He bounded towards him and barked a greeting. He was so close now, he was a good boy.

The steel capped boot that cracked his ribs sent him flying across the garden. He whined and howled. The master whistled. He ran towards the sound. He was a good boy.

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