• I know how to sit, and how to fetch. I know how to play dead and how to shake. What I don't know is why I'm here. I kno wi am a good dog, so why did they leave me? My loving family, why don't you love me? There are others here, just like me, in the same cages, and the same sad looks on their faces. What is this... this...Prison my famly has put me in.

    Three days have gone. It feels like thirty. A kind lady passes my cage every day. She stops, kneels down, pets my coat and says, "maybe tomarow you will have a home." but by the next day i only grow sadder as my hope fades away. I don't want a new family, i want my old one. I want the life i once had. I want the table scraps my masters mom used to feed me.(chicken was my favorite) I miss my masters father who would play fetch with me( I used to love that so much). Most o fall, I miss my master, little Rachel. she would pet me and play with me and protect me from thunder storms(even though she was just as scared as I was)

    three weeks have passed and again I find my self wondering, why? Why did i get sent here? Why do my masters hate me? Was i tsomething I did? was it when i went to the bathrrom on my master's mother's rug? was i tbecause I chewed up the remote to the bog colorful, moving box my master's father liked? was it because master Rachel is tired of me? I do not know for sure, bu tI do know it i smy fault. Yes, it is my fault. I am not the good dog I thaught i was. That must be it. I am not a good boy.

    three months have passed now. I no longer miss my family. I no longer miss table scraps, I no longer miss their habs on my coat. no longer miss them. well, maybe just a little. I no longer eat. The metal bowl that says "sparky", is filled with dried, bitter chunks of IMS dog food, untouched and forgoten. The metal bowl that holds warm, bad tasting water is almost over flowing. Now when the kind lady passes my cell and kneels dow, and reaches out to ept me, I show her my teeth and growl. She say's " you've changed for the worst." A tear falls from her eye as she gets up and leaves. I could almost swear I heard a sniff. Did she cry? I wonder? NO, no she didn't. She dosn't love em. No one dose because I'm not a good dog. Nobody loves bad dogs.

    It has been a year now, and my time has come. The vets say they will put me to sleep. I am unsure of it's meaning but I can guess. The other day I heard an older man shouting at the kind lady, demanding she be the one who put me to sleep. Tonight is my last meal. It is chicken, my favorite. Two men in white lab coats bring me in to an examination room, where the kind lady and the man who shouted at her were waiting( I'm guessing that the man who shouted at her was her master, because she did as he comanded.)

    The kind lady held out a treat, just like the ones my family used to give me after walks. After taking it I licked her hand and jumped up to the table where i was to "sleep" "smart dog!" said one of the vets. "yes he is." said the kind lady with a sniff. There i twas again, that sniff. IS she crying? No, no way. I'm not worth tears. she pulled out a needle and filled it with a clear liquid. She put it to my skin, bu tdidn't put it in. There they where again, those "sniffs". "Do it or you're fired" said the kind lady's master. Tears streamed down her face. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" She said. I felt the needle go in and the liquid drain from the needle into me. This is for the best. This i shat bad dogs like my self deserve.

    "SPARKY!!!" I heared someone scream. It was a familiar vioce. Was it, no, it couldn't be... Rachel? I gathered whatever was left of my strength to look up. It was! It was Her. Did that mean they still loved me. Although the lights faded, I could still see the outlines of the master's parents holding little Rachel back from me. She broke free and ran to me. She put her face to mine. I could not see but I oculd still hear. Her, her parents and the kind lady where crying. With the little bit of strength I had I licked her cheek and gave a slight bark as I used to.

    It is only now I realize ow iacted. My master didn't want to leave, and when I was in the cage someone did love me. But it's too late to apologise. Too late to thank them for the life I took for granted. Perhaps... Perhaps I'm not a bad dog after all.