Writing for Pets — Jenny Traig
Students gain confidence in their language skills by writing a short story for a pet, then reading it to a pet audience.
A friend gave me this book and it looks fun so I’m trying it out. Here’s my story starter…
2. Write a heroic story featuring your dog. It could be made up (he saves a busload of kindergarteners!) or true (he gets a flea shot and is very, very brave).
And here goes the story…
Cinder Saves the Day
Every time Michael left the house Cinder felt like he would never come home again. She dreaded the moment of his leaving. In the morning he would begin to stir and Cinder would sneak up to the pillows and lay her head ever so softly next to his.
Okay, so maybe she would circle around a couple times and dig at the blankets a little but only because she knew he didn’t mind and it made her so much more comfortable.
After that Cinder would sigh her usual sigh: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…
Then she would shift her usual shift: kickkick, stretch, settle…
Give one more puff of breath for good measure: pssspht…
And then, after all that, she’d settle in and revel in the simple warmth of a bed that had not been left yet.
But this morning was different. This morning Cinder didn’t just feel like he would never come home again. She knew it. She didn’t know how and she didn’t know why but these knowings came to her often enough so she knew she could always trust them.
One time she just knew there was a frisbee in the field on the way to the beach. She didn’t smell it or even sense it. Her hair didn’t stand on its end the way it sometimes did when she saw a man carrying a toolbox. She simply knew that if she searched that entire field over and over again she would find a frisbee. And sure enough, after running, sniffing, and searching for what seemed like hours and making Micheal very very upset she finally found it–an old pink frisbee. And it looked just like she knew she would.
Sure, it could have been a coinisidence. Cinder wasn’t dumb. She was a good dog and smart dog. She had often heard Micheal’s dad Mark say that she was, “extremely intelligent.” And as an extremlly intelligent good smart dog, Cinder knew that it wasn’t such a rare occurance to find a frisbee in a field so close to the beach. But then that wasn’t the only time such a thing had happened. As it turned out, Cinder knew lots of things.
She knew when, after having never fed her once from his plate for over two years, Micheal’s friend Ken was finally going to slip her a piece of flank steak from the barbeque. She knew when his other friend Scott was going to move away. She knew small things too. Like when it was going to rain really really hard or when a kid was going to come over to the house. She knew larger things like when two people got in a fight or when someone had been bad. And she knew fun things. Like the time with the frisbee or when Micheal was going to take her to the park instead of the beach. In fact, the thing Cinder knew the most about was Micheal.
She knew when he was going to stay out all night and not come home until morning. She knew when he was going to bring friends over. She knew when he would sleep in late, when he would get hungry, or when he would sleep. She always knew when he was going out of town and sometimes she would even know when he was going to call someone on the phone.
She didn’t know where it came from or what it’s purpose was–this knowing. It was just there. And she let it be.
Until today. Because today she knew Micheal wasn’t coming home. Not ever again. Not if he left the house. And that was one thing Cinder couldn’t let be.
Naturally, she had to find a way to make him stay. This was not as easy as it sounds.
As was stated before, Cinder was a good dog and there was only so much a good dog could do. Cinder thought about all the good dog ways she could try and get Micheal to stay home that day. She thought about bringing him the paper so he’d stay in bed, about laying next to him so he’d be warm, or about following him all over the house so he’d remember she was always there at home and that he didn’t need to leave her.
But the more Cinder thought the more she realized these were the things she did every morning. Because Cinder never wanted Micheal to go. But she also remembered that Micheal still left every morning.
To get Micheal to stay Cinder was going to have to do something different. She was going to have to do something bad. Cinder was going to be a bad dog.