It all began when I was three months old, and the family, the Slinners, started packing up boxes.
"We're moving, Golden!" One of the little girls told me one day. What was moving?
Whatever it was, I thought, everyone is exited about so it must be good....
But I guess I was wrong. They put us in a little cardboard box on the side of the road and left us, taking mother with them. We were wet and dirty and cold, and it was raining. People just passed on bye, not giving a second glance at us. Little toddlers would poke at their mothers and say,"Look mommy, a puppy!", and they would usually say stuff like we were too dirty or diseased or dangerous.
I guess in today's society a box of puppies is dangerous... If you ask me, humans are the dangerous ones.
I saw it on the news laying on the carpet last week, about some girl in a high school got shot as a martyr in a high school. How can a box of puppies be compared with that? I thought as I lay down in the soggy wet corner of the card board box, thinking about mother and home.
