Freddie loves to play
It’s funny how
sometimes your pets behave. Take my Freddie for instance; he’s usually a
ferocious dog, chasing squirrels, growling at mailman or any stranger for that
matter, So obviously I was amazed when he befriended Dawson’s little daughter,
barely in a week after they moved in.
“Kelly adores him” Mrs. Dawson our portly, kind faced neighbor shot a look at her girl who was patting Freddie.
“My husband is out most of the times, it’s just me & her. I’m glad they found each other.”
Then it became a routine. Kelly would sit by the fence reading, with Freddie by her feet wagging his tail. Most of the times they used to play fetch. She would throw a ball in my bushes for him to fetch. I used to feel guilty watching them play together, my hectic schedule allowed me very little time for my terrier.
Every morning I used to kiss Freddie before going to office, sensing that as an approval to go out, Freddie would straightaway ran at Dawson’s. While waiting for my colleague to pick me up, I used to watch them playing. She would throw the ball with all her strength only for the dog to retrieve it shortly.
Then last week Mrs. Dawson came to bid goodbye.
“My husband’s been promoted, they have offered us a place near their head office” she announced merrily.
“Kelly will miss him of course---” She said loudly trying to make her audible over Freddie’s mad barks,
“But we can’t do anything about it; it’s a part of Life”
I waved her goodbye, Freddie was disheartened of course. He sat in Dawson’s lawn whole evening growling at their door. I decided to take an off that day, thought it would cheer him up. I threw a ball at him but instead of running to fetch it, he ran towards his favorite patch in garden.
I watched him curiously as he dug by the bushes; a moment later he dropped something round & muddy in my lap. Apparently Freddie had buried the balls with which he & Kelly were playing. Only those were not regular balls, they were rags, joined to make round shape, dozens of them, made up of cloths, torn bed sheets & other stuff. I untied the rags; there were scrolls inside each ball. All of them read the same thing.
Please help me.
He’s hurting me, please somebody help me.
Please, please take me to mummy, help me please.
They will kill me if I complain, please help...
My name is Sandra not Kelly Please help me…
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