A Magic Story
By Sarah Carson
I am tired. I’ve been running that race track all day. Why can’t the fat man just give me a break? My leg hurts, and I
desperately need to lie down. Here we go again.
The gates open, and off I go! I’m running hard around the first turn. Here comes that damn brindle, she’s so hard to
beat. I’m running as fast as I can, but I don’t want to anymore. I can see from the corner of my right eye that not only
is the brindle passing me, but so isn’t my crate neighbor. By the time we finish the race I am second to last.
The lady that walks me every night comes and leashes me to take me back to my crate. I wish she’d take this muzzle
off. I hate it. At least I know she will give me some water once I am settled in. She opens the crate door and I circle a
spot and lie down. I sigh heavily. She pets my head as if she understands, but she doesn’t. She brings my dirty
water dish back filled with fresh water. I lap at it a few times and close my eyes. I’m tired.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but there is that fat man again. I think he owns me. I can hear him talking
about me like I am furniture. He said I am no longer a good racing dog! Oh no! I should have tried harder today! If I
am not good anymore what will we he do with me? My stomach is turning, and I am scared.
In the morning instead of receiving my usual dry, tasteless food I am taken out to a truck. Where am I going? What is
this? Where is the lady that walks me and feeds me? I am loaded into another crate next to a few other greyhounds.
They look just as scared as I feel. The truck engine is running, and I feel a jerk as we start to move.
When the truck stops and the doors open I see a different woman, and she is talking to the fat man. She shakes
hands with the fat man and walks to the crates. She opens my crate, muzzles me, leashes me, and tugs as a way of
telling me to get out. I follow her. What else can I do? I am placed in another cage. I am hungry and confused. This
place is not familiar. I finally get to eat, but I am so nervous that I can’t choke it down.
So much time is passing. I am bored and depressed. I am not racing and nothing is changing. I can’t seem to figure
out what is going on. Different people come and go. I am fed and walked, but the rest of the time I sit in a cage.
Finally the woman that took me from the fat man comes to my cage. She takes me down a long corridor and at the
end of it is another woman. This woman seems nice. She comes down to my level, speaks to me, pets me, and she
is given my leash. Where am I going now?
She’s taking me for a walk. It’s kind of cold outside, but I haven’t been out for a walk today. After a few moments we
return back to the corridor. I don’t know what’s happening. The women are talking about me. The new woman bends
down and kisses my head. It was a welcomed change. We walk back outside again. I think the woman is trying to get
me to jump in her car. Why would she want me to do this? I’m not getting in. I don’t think she can make me.
Oh, how wrong I am! She picked me up! She put me in! I don’t have a crate or a muzzle. What is going on? We are
driving away, and I am confused again. Maybe if I was a good racer, then none of this would have happened. I was
just so tired. I would barely finish any of the races that day. I am a good dog, really.
After some time the car stops. We are in front of a very small place compared to where I was living before. The lady
helps me out of the car. I sniff around a bit. I am hesitant and scared, but what choice do I have? She bends down
and starts to talk to me. She tells me that this is my home now. Home? She says that she is my mamma? Mamma?
She seems very happy.
We walk inside and nothing is familiar. I am the only dog. There aren’t any crates. The floor is strangely soft. It
smells nice though. Suddenly I see this small creature run from somewhere in the room. What the heck is that! It
scares me, and I duck my head behind the woman that calls herself Mamma. She pets my head to let me know
everything is ok. I like her. She tells me that running creature is called a cat. She says I have to leave it alone. I will
leave it alone. I don’t want to disappoint Mamma.
Day in and day out Mamma feeds me, walks me, pets me, kisses me, and treats me better than I have ever been
treated before. It makes me wonder why the fat man didn’t love me this way. She says my name is Magic and I
brought magic into her life. Whenever we are coming back from a walk she always says that we are home. I don’t
know what that means exactly, but I love it! I know it means that I get to go inside with Mamma, and she will give me a
treat for being a good girl. I love Mamma. She lets me nap on her bed, and she gave me a big, soft bed of my own.
Today we went to a place where she let me off my leash and I could run. I ran fast! It seemed to make Mamma
happy. On the way home from this place she bought me a treat. When we got to the home place Mamma and I went
to her bed. She pets me until she fell asleep. I am tired. I am happy to be tired with Mamma at home.
New Hampshire Writers Pet Stories
By Sarah Carson
I am tired. I’ve been running that race track all day. Why can’t the fat man just give me a break? My leg hurts, and I
desperately need to lie down. Here we go again.
The gates open, and off I go! I’m running hard around the first turn. Here comes that damn brindle, she’s so hard to
beat. I’m running as fast as I can, but I don’t want to anymore. I can see from the corner of my right eye that not only
is the brindle passing me, but so isn’t my crate neighbor. By the time we finish the race I am second to last.
The lady that walks me every night comes and leashes me to take me back to my crate. I wish she’d take this muzzle
off. I hate it. At least I know she will give me some water once I am settled in. She opens the crate door and I circle a
spot and lie down. I sigh heavily. She pets my head as if she understands, but she doesn’t. She brings my dirty
water dish back filled with fresh water. I lap at it a few times and close my eyes. I’m tired.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but there is that fat man again. I think he owns me. I can hear him talking
about me like I am furniture. He said I am no longer a good racing dog! Oh no! I should have tried harder today! If I
am not good anymore what will we he do with me? My stomach is turning, and I am scared.
In the morning instead of receiving my usual dry, tasteless food I am taken out to a truck. Where am I going? What is
this? Where is the lady that walks me and feeds me? I am loaded into another crate next to a few other greyhounds.
They look just as scared as I feel. The truck engine is running, and I feel a jerk as we start to move.
When the truck stops and the doors open I see a different woman, and she is talking to the fat man. She shakes
hands with the fat man and walks to the crates. She opens my crate, muzzles me, leashes me, and tugs as a way of
telling me to get out. I follow her. What else can I do? I am placed in another cage. I am hungry and confused. This
place is not familiar. I finally get to eat, but I am so nervous that I can’t choke it down.
So much time is passing. I am bored and depressed. I am not racing and nothing is changing. I can’t seem to figure
out what is going on. Different people come and go. I am fed and walked, but the rest of the time I sit in a cage.
Finally the woman that took me from the fat man comes to my cage. She takes me down a long corridor and at the
end of it is another woman. This woman seems nice. She comes down to my level, speaks to me, pets me, and she
is given my leash. Where am I going now?
She’s taking me for a walk. It’s kind of cold outside, but I haven’t been out for a walk today. After a few moments we
return back to the corridor. I don’t know what’s happening. The women are talking about me. The new woman bends
down and kisses my head. It was a welcomed change. We walk back outside again. I think the woman is trying to get
me to jump in her car. Why would she want me to do this? I’m not getting in. I don’t think she can make me.
Oh, how wrong I am! She picked me up! She put me in! I don’t have a crate or a muzzle. What is going on? We are
driving away, and I am confused again. Maybe if I was a good racer, then none of this would have happened. I was
just so tired. I would barely finish any of the races that day. I am a good dog, really.
After some time the car stops. We are in front of a very small place compared to where I was living before. The lady
helps me out of the car. I sniff around a bit. I am hesitant and scared, but what choice do I have? She bends down
and starts to talk to me. She tells me that this is my home now. Home? She says that she is my mamma? Mamma?
She seems very happy.
We walk inside and nothing is familiar. I am the only dog. There aren’t any crates. The floor is strangely soft. It
smells nice though. Suddenly I see this small creature run from somewhere in the room. What the heck is that! It
scares me, and I duck my head behind the woman that calls herself Mamma. She pets my head to let me know
everything is ok. I like her. She tells me that running creature is called a cat. She says I have to leave it alone. I will
leave it alone. I don’t want to disappoint Mamma.
Day in and day out Mamma feeds me, walks me, pets me, kisses me, and treats me better than I have ever been
treated before. It makes me wonder why the fat man didn’t love me this way. She says my name is Magic and I
brought magic into her life. Whenever we are coming back from a walk she always says that we are home. I don’t
know what that means exactly, but I love it! I know it means that I get to go inside with Mamma, and she will give me a
treat for being a good girl. I love Mamma. She lets me nap on her bed, and she gave me a big, soft bed of my own.
Today we went to a place where she let me off my leash and I could run. I ran fast! It seemed to make Mamma
happy. On the way home from this place she bought me a treat. When we got to the home place Mamma and I went
to her bed. She pets me until she fell asleep. I am tired. I am happy to be tired with Mamma at home.
New Hampshire Writers Pet Stories
New Hampshire Writers Pet Stories
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