A Doggish Day For Me

              It all started one fine summer day when the birds were singing and the squirrels were looking for nuts in our big elm tree.  Suddenly I started to itch.  I scratched and felt a whole lot better.  I looked at myself and spied a flea.  I scratched at it.  Suddenly I felt hungry, horribly hungry.  I felt hungry for anything but bugs.  

               I got up, and instead of going to the closet for clothes, I went to the kitchen and perched for something to eat.  I saw red velvet cake sitting on the light blue counter from last night’s huge supper on which I had almost gotten sick.  I tried to reach it, but I couldn’t because for some odd reason I only had paws.  I thought, “Who cares'' and bounded onto the light blue counter like a bulldog chasing a pesky cat.   Wait just a cotton pick'n minute, I was a bulldog; how did that happen?  

      So right away I began to gobble moist cake and icing, not with my hands but with my mouth, and in seconds there wasn’t one itsy bitsy crumb left on that huge plate.  Then all of a sudden my mom came in and screamed because she hates bulldogs.  She ran out of the kitchen like a bullet and came back with a big straw broom in seconds.  

               Heaven knows what she was going to do with that waving broom.  It was coming straight at my wrinkled up face.  I barked and ran out of there like a rocket blasting off the launch pad at Cape Kennedy.  I hid under Dad's mahogany deck trying to disappear from that menacing broom and my mom.