Do not read unless Doug
January 23rd 1997
Dear Diary,
I guess that’s how you start these things…. I never thought I’d be writing in a diary but my cousin Pauly says it will help my “anger management”. The other day a couple good-for-nothins decided it’d be a good idea to steal some food from Pauly and I. Boy did they fuck up. I isn’t too tall, I got brown curly hair, ay and the ladies they think I’m cute or some shit, but lemme tell you something, I can bark and I can bite. Couple dead thieves and all of a sudden I have and anger problem. I’ve always had some grit about me, you know growing up on the streets of the Bronx. But hey I couldn’t imagine anything better. A few years back Pauly and I found a couple nice boxes behind a pizza parlor, we get all the free food we want. The morons dump it in the garbage next to us every night. Talk about free delivery.
March 15th 1997
Shit. SHIT!!! If you are reading this by now I am probably dead. I’ve been kidnapped! Pauly left this morning to find us some breakfast and I decided to take a stroll around the block. You know… get some fresh air. But then next thing you know I’m being thrown into the back of a van going God knows where. Please, if someone reads this help me! My kidnappers are three people. The one driving the car is a man, late thirties, short brown hair, pretty clean cut. A women is sitting to him long brown hair, giant mole on the right side of her lip, and damn.. she wears some god-awful perfume, its suffocating. Lastly, there is a young one sitting in the back seat, a girl, probably twelve or thirteen, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She keeps looking back at me, smiling. Ay bitch, keep your eyes on yourself. I’m in serious trouble here.
April 2nd 1997
Okay so I’m not dead, but I’m not feeling very alive either. These people are a bunch of softies. I overheard them the other day saying that I looked hungry and that I need a home. So what do they do? They decide to take me and force me to live with them! How do you know want I want? I want my box back with my all you can eat pizza, and Pauly. Damn I miss Pauly the most.
These people have me sleeping on a “bed”. Isn’t that wonderful?… Well it’s not. First of all the bed gots flowers on it and little pink ribbons. If Pauly saw me on this thing he’d never let me live it down. Plus, the worst part they have me locked in a dark room at night. If I gotta take a shit, I gots to wait till the morning, it’s horrible! This place is a prison!
Believe it or not this isn’t nothing compared to my grub situation. These people are nuts, they put on a façade trying to be all nice and stuff by giving me free food. Only problem is I’ve been eating the same damn meal twice a day for over two months now! I’m about to lose my goddamn mind!
May 17th 1997
So today’s been a bad day. I saw the family leave the house for I guess the young one’s soccer game or something and I figured its time I get out of here. Little do they know I has been digging a hole in their backyard so I could tunnel my way under their fence. And it worked! Well there I am, running down the road, wind brushing against my curly brown hair, the smell of freedom so sweet. That’s when I heard a loud honk as I get hit by a car. I never saw it coming. Worst part about it is they didn’t stop, they just left me there bleeding. As I am writing this I am dying, I don’t know how much longer I gots left. Please will someone hel…
May 18th 1997
You never know how much someone cares until you see them by your side at your lowest point. I was very wrong about these people. I don’t remember much but I woke up this morning I was on a white table with bandages around my body. I looked around and saw the smiling faces of my captors and a sign on the wall that read “Veterinarian’s”. These people have saved my life. They are not captors they are my family.
Authors Note:
This was written in a diary format from a dogs perspective. The syntactical choices I made do not follow conventional grammar rules, however, they were made to mimic that of a tough New Yorker.