Thursday, August 21, 2014

My Pup, Milo

My Pup, Milo

Something fluffy rubs against my leg.
It's just Milo, my puppy who looks like a new-born lamb.
He gives me faith but when I look into his pure, brown eyes, I see fear and discomfort.
That sends a shiver down my spine.

The master shepherd strolls towards me.
I spin away, trying not to make eye-contact. But I can't help it.
He has that same smug grin on his pruned face.
Suddenly, it hits me.
He's going to try and take Milo away, again!

"That dog of yours, ready for sale yet?", he screeches in his croaky voice.


He hesitates.
"I'll by him off you for $200"

Milo wriggles in my arms.

"You'll have to give him to me or..."

The hunched man snatches the pup away from me. He shoves him in his flour sack and runs off.
Sweat and tears dribbling all over my face, I sprint after him with pain anger swirling in my system.
I finally catch up to him but he suddenly stops and spins around.

"If you come any closer, I'll kill the damn dog!"

I knew he wouldn't if he begged for him so much.

"You wouldn't dare to"

"Who said so? I never keep my word!"

"So you would never kill milo"

"Givin' me lip, are ya?!"

I shuffle forwards, then backwards, then forwards again, unsure of what he'd do.
He gestgures the sack towards a sharp, nearby rock, threatning me.

That's when I do it, the loudest thing I'd ever do.
I scream my lungs out.
The old my cuffs his ears, dropping his sack. He starts howling with pain then shuffles off.
I cripple to the sack, desperate for a sign of life.
I draw the pup out, who's all covered in flour.
He shakes up and down, trying to get rid off all the white powder. But instead of shaking it on the ground, he pours it all over me.

Milo kisses me with happiness to still be alive and to still be mine.
Or just to lick the flour off my face...

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