Personal Narrative Analysis

The day we got my little dog we now know as Opie was one of the best days of my life. I can remember it as though it was yesterday.

It was a winter day in late November. There was a few inches of snow on the ground, the icicles were hanging from the roof, and there was Christmas decorations being set out here and there. In fifth grade, that day was not one of the best days I would like to remember,until I knew what was going. I threw off my camouflage patterned snowboots, and they landed by the old tan couch with the sunken cushions. I didn’t know my dad was home, but I knew when he yelled my name when the door shut.

I did not want to go up there, and for great reason too. It seemed like my teacher hated me and gave me about a good two hours worth of homework, plus I had to watch my little brother and get the whole entire house cleaned before my mom came home at eight o’ clock. It was about 3:40 PM, and my dad worked the night shift at Walmart, so he had to leave soon, Dad had to be at work early because he was a store manager.

He was a cheagle, a beagle- chihuahua mix. He had large brown eyes, a dark tan coat, and the most expressive eyebrows a dog could ever have. I thought that until Jax came trotting down the stairs, greeting me after the long day of seperation. I bent down to pet the old mutt, that was until my dad called for me once again, except a lot louder than last