Creative Writing: A Dog Named Shiloh

A Dog Named Shiloh

Dogs have been “man’s best friend” since the dawn of time. A great example of a human/ k-9 bondage is Timmy and Lassie the Border Collie; a friendly, caring, wonder dog that seemed to save the perilous child every time. My story with a dog named Shiloh isn’t as cute and cuddly.
The day was hot and dry, unusual for mid Fall. The school was cooler inside than out but we, the students, still felt like grains of sticky rice in a steamy pressure cooker. Finally the little Catholic school let out just around three or so. Kids scrambling left and right, caos struck the halls like hurricane Katrina. The whole school rushed out the doors to get home and so did my siblings and I. Three words to describe my mood at that moment,

tired as heck. To make matters worse, the middle child in my family, Ashley was screaming like she belong in an asylum. I wondered how so much noise could come out of such a small child.
My mother was bewildered, “What in the world could this crazy kid be screaming at now?” she asked me.
My response was “You know just as much as me momma!”, as waved my hands above my hands in my own dramatic, little way.
Laughing at my answer, she said to me, “ Ok little drama queen!”.

By the time we arrived at home, we had Ashley’s whole spiel about why she was screaming; it was surprisingly sophisticated for a six year old. She was worried about the puppy she had just aquired earlier this month. The little Beagle puppy is notorious for wreaking havoc on me. The cute little devil goes by the name Shiloh and today was the day that she will break out her inner satan. We jumped out of the car just like every other day and walked into the house, only to find Shiloh’s kennel open and the room strewn around like a junkyard with a ramped tornado on the loose. Now Ashley has a reason to scream, her and mom’s yell are almost in harmony now.
“ I am too stressed for this!”, I say, as if the room isn’t loud enough, I stomp my way out of living room. I get up to my room only to get called back down stairs. “ Mom! i just cannot handle the pressure!” I say back to her.
She replies,“I don’t give a rat’s! Now go find that dog!”.
“What do you mean?” I say with curiosity.
“ I mean that shiloh is on the loose, I think she escaped out the dog door, which you kids were supposed to lock! Follow her tracks, that’s your best shot of finding her.”.
I sighed, rolled my eyes and mumbled under my breathe “Well, that’s enough of my hide getting tanned...”.
Mom screamed from the laundry room, “SHELBY ROXANNE! What did you say to me?!”.
“Uh, nothing!”, I shout back and scoot out the door, as I just realize how narrowly I just escaped her wrath.

After a few minutes of looking at the numerous tracks around the yard, I recollect what her favorite places to go were.
“ Aha!

She must be at Lady’s house!”. Now, Lady is the neighbor dog and she lives about two blocks down the street... “And how do you think on getting there?” I think to myself. “Just walk! I can’t drive, so that’s the only way to get there!” I notice that talking to myself is wasting precious daylight. Now I’m walking down the ditch, scouring holes, tuffs of grass, and anything that resembles and dog. Finally, I reach the house where Shiloh is supposed to be at. To my surprise, I spot a little white tipped tail running around a tarp shed in the driveway. “Boy! Shiloh is a speedy little thing!” I say in my subconscious. I take off at full speed, trying to be as agile as possible, dodging mess and clutter around the yard. As I round the corner of the tarp shed, I turn behind me to see a ginormous German Shepherd chasing me like a fox chases a rabbit. With the little energy I have left, I push my little legs to the max in an attempt to escape this beast of a k-9. I fall just short of freedom. All I can do is lay there, hoping the ferocious dog is just coming over to my side to lick my cheek in a kind manner.I see something that is branded into my brain for the rest of my life; a big, furry, foaming at the mouth, vicious animal is jumping with its mouth wide open, right for my foot. I see its razor sharp fangs plunge into my foot, through my sock and leather shoe. “So this is how it ends!” I think as the dog tries to rip my foot off. As I scream bloody hell, my sight is in slow motion, back and forth, back and forth goes my limp leg in Lady’s mouth. The rest goes

black.

I’m riding down a road in a car, but who’s car? I have no idea what the heck is going on.
“She’s awake. Here is your mom, tell her what happened.” said the driver. The strange woman hands me a cell phone with my mom on the other end.
“Hello?” comes from my mouth as cuss words come out of hers. I explain what happens and she reassures me that I will be ok and that I am grounded when I get home.
Now I'm in the hospital, waiting. Waiting in a room of people with all kinds of strange ailments. For instance, the women sitting closest to the reception desk has a nasty cough, she sounded like a camel and a tone depth trumpet player mixed together. Another man is sitting next me with a nail in his hand. "Wow! What a crowed!" I joke with myself. The women calling names seems to be calling everyone's name except mine! Now I'm a little ticked... I want to shout out to the room " Hello!?! I have a gaping hole in my foot and no one cares!". Let's just say, at my age I can mask my anger pretty well. Finally! After what felt like a millennium, my name hits me ears. I jump up, or try to, limp up to the desk. They are telling me to go behind a big, brown door to an examination room. The nurse directs me to a paper covered bed where oblige myself to sit. The paper crumbles as I hit it. With every move i make it seams the paper has to make a noise to accompany it, a very interesting sort of harmony if you ask me.
“Let’ take a look at what we have here...”, as she delicately takes off my shoe. I wince. She notices my discomfort, and though I didn’t think possible, she takes my shoe of with an even more recherche. Next comes the tattered and battered sock. Every little pull that was once gentle now felt like hell. Each and every little fiber of the once pure white sock seemed to be sown onto my flesh. Pain. All I felt was pain. Even though this procedure only took a matter of seconds, it felt like I should have grown a full beard by the end of that “adventure” as the doctor calls it.
“Gauze or a bandaid?”
“Well, gauze looks cooler so... Gauze!”
“All righty then, I will be right back with it.”
I like this doctor, she seems pretty nice! Later I get this gauze I’ll be able to go home and sleep! Come to think of it, it’s almost bed time already.
“Here it is! Now try not to scratch at it or you’ll burst the vein. You’re very lucky that dog didn’t hit that vein or it would’ve been a bloody mess!”
Following more a few more words of wise, we were discharged from the hospital. On our way home, we stop at a gas station to get some food after this grooling day.

We pull into the driveway. Ashley runs out with shiloh in her arms. Oh do I wanna strangle that dog boy... But I ponder over that gruesome thought for awhile and come to my senses.
“Would Ashley throw a fit! And she is kinda cute... Good thing she didn’t get hurt in this ordeal.”
The innocent little puppy once again has me wrapped around her energetic, white tipped tail. We ventured into the house. Everyone is sleeping now. Now for my biggest feat of today, climb the Mount Everest like stairs. One foot ensuing the other, one step, then another. I’m just about half way there. This fraise bounces through my mind and sparks a flame. I start singing “Halfway There” by Big Time Rush, my favorite at the time. That spark lights a fire under me that gets me up the stairs. I plop down on my bed like a dead fish into a bucket of ice. Time for sleep.

It’s the middle of the night. I wake up suddenly, I realise that something awful happened. All I see is blood. On the sheets, on my pants, legs, comforter, and on my sister. I let out a yowl of fear, only to find discover that my gauze was off my foot. As of this moment, my foot is beet-red in blood and hurts something terrible. After I clean up the mess and clean off in the shower, the clock strikes one o’clock a.m. I think to myself “Sleep, you need sleep. Just sleep.”. I can’t even follow my own advice. At last I come to my last attempts to slumber, counting sheep and reiterating my day. I will remember this day till the end, all because of a dog named Shiloh.