Baxter wagged his tail, sitting next to Icia. It felt slightly awkward, sitting next to her and talking about himself, but it was also kind of nice. Baxter was a little nervous about talking about his past, but he trusted Icia. "Nobody's really asked me that question before," Baxter thought he'd start off with that. "Not that I would tell just anyone about myself, but I think I can trust you, Icia, seeing as you're really the only friend I've got.
My story, past, history, whatever you want to call it is something I've been trying to forget, but... I kind of feel like I have to tell someone. I wasn't born on the streets, as most dogs probably think. When I was a puppy, I was bought by an elderly couple. Though it pained me to leave my mom and my brothers and sisters, I figured I was going to have a good live with my new owners. And believe me, I did. They cared about me more than anything in the world, and I would always have the best of things in life. I charish every moment I spent with them, even the bad ones, like the things I used to do that would only get me in trouble. They could never stay mad a me, really. For awhile, I thought that I had the best life a dog could ever dream of having, but that quickly changed all over the course of 2 weeks.
"The old man got sick one day. I sensed it before anyone else did. At first it seemed like just a regular cold, but then it started getting worse and worse. He would fall down a lot, he wouldn't eat, he barely slept, but he still pressed on no matter how much it hurt. Well, one day he fell down and he couldn't get back up. The old woman had called and some strange people came and took the old man away. The old woman and I were both very scared, and we waited and waited for her husband to come home okay again. He didn't. It was a week later that the woman heard back from the strangers and was told that the old man was dead. I was devastated, but I was fine compared to her. She didn't want to play or cuddle or sit on the coach by the fire anymore. All she would do was cry, and no matter how many times I would try to comfort her, there was nothing I could do to turn back time and bring him back. And before I knew it, she was gone, too. More strangers came to our home and took the old woman away. I waited for her, but she never came back. I ran away after that, seeing as there was really nothing else I could do."
There was a long moment of silence. It was surprising how much better Baxter felt now that he had gotten that off his chest. He felt a little emotional, and it took him a moment to realize that there were tears coming from his eyes. He stared at Icia, opening his mouth, but no words came out.
"It... it makes me wonder," Baxter finally spoke, but his voice began to shake slightly. "why she would just leave and never come back like that. I thought she loved me..." Baxter sniffed, whiping his face with a paw in embarrassment that Icia had seen him cry.
My story, past, history, whatever you want to call it is something I've been trying to forget, but... I kind of feel like I have to tell someone. I wasn't born on the streets, as most dogs probably think. When I was a puppy, I was bought by an elderly couple. Though it pained me to leave my mom and my brothers and sisters, I figured I was going to have a good live with my new owners. And believe me, I did. They cared about me more than anything in the world, and I would always have the best of things in life. I charish every moment I spent with them, even the bad ones, like the things I used to do that would only get me in trouble. They could never stay mad a me, really. For awhile, I thought that I had the best life a dog could ever dream of having, but that quickly changed all over the course of 2 weeks.
"The old man got sick one day. I sensed it before anyone else did. At first it seemed like just a regular cold, but then it started getting worse and worse. He would fall down a lot, he wouldn't eat, he barely slept, but he still pressed on no matter how much it hurt. Well, one day he fell down and he couldn't get back up. The old woman had called and some strange people came and took the old man away. The old woman and I were both very scared, and we waited and waited for her husband to come home okay again. He didn't. It was a week later that the woman heard back from the strangers and was told that the old man was dead. I was devastated, but I was fine compared to her. She didn't want to play or cuddle or sit on the coach by the fire anymore. All she would do was cry, and no matter how many times I would try to comfort her, there was nothing I could do to turn back time and bring him back. And before I knew it, she was gone, too. More strangers came to our home and took the old woman away. I waited for her, but she never came back. I ran away after that, seeing as there was really nothing else I could do."
There was a long moment of silence. It was surprising how much better Baxter felt now that he had gotten that off his chest. He felt a little emotional, and it took him a moment to realize that there were tears coming from his eyes. He stared at Icia, opening his mouth, but no words came out.
"It... it makes me wonder," Baxter finally spoke, but his voice began to shake slightly. "why she would just leave and never come back like that. I thought she loved me..." Baxter sniffed, whiping his face with a paw in embarrassment that Icia had seen him cry.
(( I have to go. I won't be back until some time tomarrow.... Bye~ ))
