Not All Dogs Are Flawless

• Maureen Pham, Grade 8, Caroline Chisholm Catholic College
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'Write As Rain 2014' competition

I lost my leg today.
…Well maybe that’s a bit too blunt for this kind of silly simplistic story. Simple is simple. Maybe something more… humorous will do.
How about…
My dog does not deserve cold bacon after the atrocious thievery he has done against me.
Yes, that sounds about right.

“Dad! I’m taking the dog for a walk!” I call out, walking heavily and slowly through the opened gates. Closing it with a clang, I hiss at the dog sporting a temporary naked mole rat guise sitting on my foot. “These jeans costs me twenty dollars! If you're so hungry go eat your naked tail you exhibitionist!” I wriggle the leg that BB has clamped his teeth around. BB panted heavily as slobs of drool escaped from his jaw, his canines still fastened above my ankle.
After a few more wriggles and insults aimed at the amount of hair the dog shed, I gave up.
'Oh well,' I thought. 'I’ll just drag him around the block for twenty minutes, lay out cold bacon in the backyard and then run back to my house in the speed of light. Easy peasy.'
Feeling determined, I look back down. I am greeted with the sight of a toothy, drooly beast. It is sad how my newly found determination slowly deflates like a balloon and then proceeds to disappear altogether.
I groan.
“Come on,” I sigh as I propel myself forward, pretending to ignore the fact that the dog still has not let go of my ankle. “Exercise. You need it. A lot.”

After what felt like an hour I slump on a nearby bench.
“Why are you so heavy?” I complain. My hands latch onto my low pigtails as I exhale air out through gritted teeth.
Feeling fed up at the tenacity and sheer idiocy of the damn dog, I give my leg a shake in a half-assed attempt to get the stupid thing off.
I immediately regret it as hot slobber gushed out of BB’s mouth like some kind of mini waterfall.
“Wh-What the?! Get off of me you DAMN DOG!”
My eyes bugged out as BB started to gnaw rather hungrily at my ankle, his front paws clawing on my twenty dollar pants. I shook it off rabidly while shrieking, “I said get off! Oh no- DON’T YOU DARE!”
By then it was too late. BB, the dog which I had named after liquid foundation proclaiming to 'give you the flawless natural look', had scampered down the street with a prosthetic leg clasped in his stinky, drooly jaw.
Beyond enraged, I shakily stood up with a hand secured around the back of the bench.
“BB! I TAKE IT BACK! YOU’RE NOT FLAWLESS YOU STINKING DOG! GIVE ME BACK MY LEG!”

The End.