“That dog is so futile! All he does is sniff, bark, and whine! I can’t tolerate with such a dog!” I sighed to myself as my beagle, Puddles, circumnavigated around me, twitching his tail. I pushed him away and perambulated off to my room. I am not friends with animals, and even though I live on an old farm with my grandfather and grandmother, animals are not one of my interests. Puddles, was an old dog but with much energy. He was constantly jumping up and down on people with his muddy, and feculent paws.
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
I took out a laundered white shirt with red stripes vertically passing through it like a path. I took off my old muddy farm shirt and slipped on my spotless stripped shirt. Puddles suddenly came charging towards me. His small and stocky legs were filled up to his chest with mud and dirt. His long ears flopped and waved up and down like a flying bird. I took a few steps back to get out of his way, but Puddles turned and stormed deadly to me. His booming howl stung my ears. He was getting closer and closer to me and gaining speed. I had to do something quickly before he jumped on my shirt. I ran as fast as I could towards the front door, and through the hallway until I reached a dead end. “Oh no! I’m trapped!” I exclaimed panicking and alarmed. Suddenly before I could do anything, Puddles was already in the air aiming straight for my chest. His muddy and wet paws landed right into my shirt splattering repellent mud all over as I fell backwards. Puddles, who was sitting on my stomach, licked my face. His warm and stinky breath spread all over my face. My grandfather had watched the whole scene and was laughing his head off.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Tom you are hilarious!”
I pushed Puddles and stormed out with rage. I raced up to my...