Getting my dog

Getting my dog was definitely the best feeling in my life. We have a friend who knew we'd wanted a dog for quite a while. She was in a traffic jam one day when, she saw the cutest loveliest dog ever, she wound down her window and said to the woman what a lovely dog. The woman then replied that she had had enough of dogs (she had 23 apparently) and that she wanted to get rid of him. Our friend told the old woman about us, and the next day phoned us to say a woman would be coming round with a dog that evening.

We did not know what to expect, we didn’t want a mean grizzly bulldog. When she arrived, the woman had a washing line in her hand. Attached to that washing line was our dog. She said his name was Titeuf but, her Toulousain accent was so strong that we thought she said Titus. The woman said we could keep him for a day to see how it went but then we could have him forever. The first night he ran away, I cried a lot. But then suddenly we saw him running up the road. That was the best feeling of my life.

Not long after we took him to the vets for a check up and to get him inscribed. The vet told us we needed a booklet and proof that the previous owner gave him to us. Then, she said that the woman who had given him to us wasn’t his previous owner and that we needed to contact the actual owner and ask them if we could have their dog, I felt awful, my best friend in the world didn’t actually belong to me. My dad contacted the owners and luckily they said yes, then they came and gave us all the information we needed and best of all said he belonged to us. I felt ecstatic.

After about six months of belonging to us, Theo (my brother) took Titus with his bike to town to get something from the chemists while my parents were out. He tied Titus to a fence, but when Theo got back he could just see a collar and lead, no dog. He went up the road and saw Titus plodding down. He had blood in his mouth; Theo thought he’d been in a fight and told him off. As they set off up the road a local farmer said Titus had been hit by a car and that the car didn’t stop. My brother checked Titus and realized that he had bad lung that seemed to be filling his body with air. Luckily some friends of ours were passing and they stopped to help. My brother then phoned me and I ran out to where they were putting the injured Titus into a car, with the help of IKEA bags. In the process he bit my brother because he was so scared. It was the first time (and last) he’d ever bitten anyone.

 When we got him to the vets they muzzled him and sedated him. He had a punctured lung. He stayed at the vets for the longest week of my life, then, finally they let us take him home. He spent three weeks recovering until finally he could go for a jog with my dad. He now loves going for jogs every weekend with my dad. He barks like mad when when he sees him in shorts (he’s the only one who likes my dad in shorts) that’s what wakes me up on Saturdays.