Ethel's Walk Down Memory Lane

Published by AmyWriter in the blog AmyWriter's blog. Views: 265

Here's another diary entry from everyone's favorite pug: Ethel!

2 A Walk Down Memory Lane

When I wake up every morning Jenna takes me out for my walk with Buddy. Snap does not take walks. I do not know why. How can he do his business? Anyway, on my first walk I met a few friends around the neighborhood. My friends are:

Martha-a black and white spotted pug (female)-

Buttercup-a golden tiny pug who isn’t a baby but sure looks like one (female)-

Jamsies-a golden retriever (male)-

Poochy-a mutt that has very long white hair (male)-

Duke Ellington-an old pug who is very wise and a very good friend of mine and Buddy’s (male)-

Biscuit-a baby chocolate lab (male)-

Trixie-a big saint bernard (female)-

Dori, Nori, and Rori-three triplet french bulldogs (female, female, and male)-

There were a lot of humans, too. But, I won’t list all of them.

“So, Buddy, I told her ‘You’ll take this pretty pink collar over my dead body!’” I told Buddy. “But, Ethel. You’re not dead, how can she take it over your dead body if you aren’t dead?” Buddy asked me. “What are you two yapping about?” Jenna asked, smiling. Unfortunately, humans such as Jenna are not yet smart enough to talk our intense language. Oh, shut up! I told her. You’re so nosy! I’m just sharing a bit of gossip. “Oh, Buddy. Are you really that dumb?” I asked him. But, before he could answer, an old pug came outside and said, “Hey, youngens!” we turned our heads. It was Duke Ellington. “Hello, Duke Ellington!” I said, bowing respectfully. “Hi, Duke!” Buddy said, bouncing up and down. “You know, back in my day, dogs roamed FREE! No leashes! We would always come back at night, though.” Duke told us, cheerfully. “Hello, Dukey! Why aren’t you on a leash?” Jenna asked him. “I don’t need a leash, youngen!” Duke yelled at her, angrily. “You know she can’t understand you, right?” I asked him. “Of course I do, youngen.” Duke replied. We tipped our heads and said good bye. Then, we walked home. When we got home Snap greeted us looking worried.

“Heads up, guys! Steve said he’s taking us to the vet!” Snap told us. “Wh-what?! The vet?!” I screamed. “I like the vet! They give me treats! Nom nom!” Buddy said, making eating noises. “Buddy, the vet is dangerous!” Snap snapped at him. “Why?” Buddy asked Snap. “I once knew a pug who planned on having puppies soon but she went to the vet and couldn’t conceive puppies!” Snap warned us. “Oh no!” I said quietly. “No! That’s horrible! I don’t wanna goooo! Please Snap! Help us!” Buddy wailed. “I don’t know if I can.” Snap said, sadly.

Later, when Jenna and Steve put us outside in the fenced in area we decided we had to run away. With his keen sense of smell, Buddy picked up an opening in the fence and we ran out. As we passed Duke Ellington’s house he came out to greet us. “Duke! Hurry! The vet is coming and we all need to get out of here!” Buddy told Duke. “THE VET?!” he screamed. “Dang tootin, I’m coming with you!” Now we had a gang of Snap, Buddy, Duke, and me. We ran and ran and ran. We hiked in and out of stores and then a car stopped and a man got out and took us home. “Are these your pets, ma’am?” the man asked Jenna when we got home. “Yes! Yes! That’s them!” Jenna screamed, happily. I’m happy she missed us but we still had to go to the vet.

When we got to the vet a doctor came out and clipped my nails, picked out my ear wax, and looked at my eyes. Then, he gave me a treat and I went outside the room and waited with some other pugs while Snap, Duke, and Buddy got their treats and “check-ups.” I do not know why it is called a check-up. They check you but there’s no “up.” It should be called a “check-over” because they check you all over. Snap’s story was just a cat tail. He was WRONG. The thing I don’t understand is that Duke Ellington never went home. Instead, he came to live with us. I have no problem with that, though. He is very kind and wise and can share a lot of good tips with us and he might even understand that “over my dead body” is just an expression, or maybe thats just wishful thinking.
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