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In our log cabin looking house, every day is the same. My sister and I wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, and do our homework, then go to sleep. This day though had a slight twist.
“Ali, I finished our lunches! What are you doing, hurry up!”
“Andy, clam down I am brushing my hair”
“Come on I have a test. MOVE IT!
“There you are, here is your lunch, let’s go. Oh and don’t forget to close the door behind you.”
Though, I never heard a door close.
“ALI, WHAT THE HECK I TOLD YOU TO CLOSE THE DOOR!”
Then at that moment I saw something dart out of the house running faster than a bullet. It was our dog Pepe; we had only had him for two months.
I ran down the 46 steps of our house, ran on the cracked street, dodging the occasional car, through the nice lawns off our neighbors, then I finally got to the base of the worlds windiest road, Mount Washington Drive, every 10 feet there is a turn every 10 feet and at the base of the hill was Pepe. His hair was matted with at least a hundred of foxtails in there and he smelled worse than wet dog. Then I saw him walk over to a big muscular dog, with matted hair, and a huge tail wagging back and forth. I was about to apologize to the owner when I noticed that the dog does not have an owner, does not have a collar, and that it is not a dog, it is a coyote.
I then realized that it was no big deal I could just go get the dog because, one coyotes are scared of humans and two coyotes hunt in packs, but then at that very moment Pepe did the unthinkable, he chased the coyote up Mount Washington Drive.
The coyote’s trick, one coyote acts as bait for the dog and if the dog takes the bait the dog will fallow the coyote up the hill where the pack of coyotes is ready to attack.
I collapsed to my knees hysterical; I could not stop crying because after every bark and every squeal I started to cry more. Crying and crying, I sat their not worrying about cars just worrying about my poor dog. Once everything goes silent I cry out, “Pepe” hoping he will have some life in him to come out of the bushes, so I can take him home.
I wait minute after minute, for ten minutes. When nothing happened I sat in the middle of street thinking about how it was my fault. I could have woken up earlier, I could have made my sister make the lunches, or I could have went out the door first, but all this didn’t matter because my dog was still dead. After a few more minutes of crying, I decide to go home and tell my sister and mom. They would under stand I y hardest, or did I.
Once I am half way down the block I hear four feet hitting the ground and something painting, but before I can turn around a dog runs right between my legs. I pick up the dog (knowing it is Pepe), I run down the street, up all the 46 steps of our house, open the house door, drop the dog, and then collapse to my knees shedding tears of joy.
The ride to school felt longer than usual. I told my mom and sister about what had happened. Now we know to be more aware of the dog, or next time coyotes will eat him.