My Twisted Experience

Chapter 8

(Picture of the men)

I woke up to a loud bang. Henry did too. We both quickly stood up. "What was that?", I asked and started to walk to where the noise had come from. "I dont know.", Henry said, following me.
I turned the corner and saw them. A group of 5 or 6 men. Dressed in all black. One of them looked at me, and then at Henry. He said something but I couldn't hear what he said.
I heard Henry growl from beside me. He took a few steps forward, ready to attack the men. Before either of us could think, one of the men lunged on Henry and put a muzzle on him.
Henry barked for help, but no one came. I ran to a window and started to bark. Still, nobody came to help us.
I felt someone grab my collar. I barked, I howled, I tried to bite the man but it was no use. In the matter of seconds there was a muzzle on me, protecting them from my bite. One of the men finally spoke loud enoughfor me to hear. "What now?", one of them asked. The voice sounded somewhat familiar. "Bring them with us. They'll get us a lot of money.", Another spoke, the one that put Henry's muzzle on. The third man took out a wooden baseball bat.
Henry whimpered when he saw it. I knew what that meant. The fourth man found my and Henry's traveling crates. "Get in, and we won't have any trouble.", the man with the bat said.
Henry went right into his crate, but I refused. I backed away from the crate. My tail was in between my legs and my ears were lifeless. I was terrified but I couldn't, I wouldn't listen to these awful men.
Henry looked at me. His eyes told me to listen to the men. I didn't want to though.
The man with the bat took a step toward me. 'Oh no' I thought to myself. "In the crate." The man told me. His voice was raspy and harsh.
I was more scared than I was before. I went right in the crate before anything could happen.

The crate was small. It could barely hold me, let alone both Henry and I. We both had muzzles to keep us from biting the men.
Henry was trying to curl up as small as he could, which still took up about one third of the crate, to let me have some space. I was also curled up right beside him. I had just enough room that I wasn't pressed up against the side of it. One of the men rolled the crate containing us into a large truck. It smelled of dog, a lot of dogs, a lot of scared dogs. We weren't the first, and I doubt the last