I’m A Terrified Puppy.
A nice lady from ACN picked up my emaciated mommy a few weeks ago. She could barely stand up. I had to stay in a crate in the basement with my 8 or 9 or 10 siblings and watch as they walked away. Some of my sisters were sold. One came back even crazier than when she left and rejoined us back in the crate. So then we all became a little crazier.
Eventually we got bigger and had no interest in being returned down to the basement after potty time…so then we were forced down to the basement after potty time. Eventually we wanted to explore more and had no interest in dropping shoes or learning how to sit in 3 seconds…so then we were forced to drop the shoe and were beaten into a sit.
I’m scared right before I go outside because I’m scared of coming in. So I guess I’m just scared of the back door itself. I’m scared to go down the stairs because I never know when I might get pushed. I’m scared to go up the stairs too because the backdoor scares me…and maybe I’m supposed to be going back down, or up, or something, I don’t know what…whatever it is that won’t get me in trouble.
I’m scared of the sound of footsteps because they might belong to someone mean. I’m also scared of not hearing the footsteps because who knows if anyone is ever coming back to feed us. I’m scared of not getting to the food bowl fast enough and having to
endure close quarter combat with my sidings. In fact I’m scared of most of my siblings. And the food bowl. Any bowl. They are all potential weapons. In fact, I’m scared of most any object.
Every object I can see might suddenly become a weapon…every person I can see might suddenly become violent…every dog, vicious…and at less than 3 months of age just look at me. You can’t. I don’t want you looking at me. Go away or I’ll make you.
I am a terrified puppy.