Yes, the title is corny, but how much wit do you really expect from an old dog who has unjustly been thrown into the slammer? Where are my rights as “Man’s Best Friend.”  Some friend man is.  I feel like I got the short end of this stick…

This place known as “Pound” might as well be a death center for other civilized canines like myself. The humans that work here do not even have the courtesy to provide us with a pillow to rest on in this cramped metal cage. It is simply torture on my four aching knees.

The good news is that I think I have a plan for escape! You see, the guards must think I am some silly lapdog. I have managed to unhinge the cage where I am being held captive. This next week I heard the guards talking about a high school field trip coming to visit “Pound.” What kind of field trip is that?

Anyway, this distraction can definitely work to my advantage. With all those unpredictable humans running and yelling about, I am sure the guards will not notice a stealthy dog like me slip away from their grasp.

Hopefully next time you hear from me I will be on the “outside,” as I’ve heard those street cats refer to it. I will be a free dog once again.


Hello world. It has been pretty hectic since I could last update. Last week, that group of high school humans came to visit. They were even rowdier than I could have possibly hoped. One disproportionately tall teenager managed to trip and knock over one of the cat cages.  Since felines tend to be overly dramatic (when not being apathetic), not onlydid the unfortunate cat from the cage in question scream, the entire building screeched with a chorus of angry, frightened cats.

The unearthly sound of the agitated felines caused the high schoolers to cover their ears, scream themselves, and run about in a blind panic. Talk about a hissy fit! The guards rushed into the area where the cage had been knocked over. The cat had managed to escape its confinement and had jumped, razor-sharp claws fully exposed, onto the upper thigh of the clumsy teenager which had caused the initial commotion.

The guards flocked around the now screaming boy trying to calm him down as he desperately attempted to dislodge a very angry kitty. Obviously, this was my time to escape. I knocked the door open and rushed to the exit.

The screaming of teenagers, cats, and now barking dogs continued as I realized how sitting in the cage for so long had really affected my mobility. I wanted to run so much faster, but each joint pained me more with each additional step. The youths had already managed to find the exit and were spilling out in the parking lot just beyond the jail. I was in the home stretch.

I managed to barely squeeze through the closing door when I heard a piercing voice of one of the female guards yell, “DOG!” She was still back on the other side of the building where the cat-teen bond was still holding firm. The door slammed behind me, and I began to search for some place to hide. In that same moment I realized, I had no idea where home was or how to begin my journey there. The teens were recovering from their field trip outside when they noticed me. I was terrified I would be caught and thrown back in jail.

I could hear the guard who had called after me rallying the troops to come after me. It was too late for me…

That’s when I heard a familiar voice come from the group of teenagers, “Creak? Is that you, boy?” It was one of my pet’s friends who tended to frequent the house during the summer. In the past, his potent unwashed smell had repelled me any time he made an advance to pet me.

“It is you! What are you doing here? Your family has come around the pound at least three times looking for you. Where’s your collar?” He scooped me up like I was a little puppy and rushed me over to his car.

Some things started to add up, the woman from the flower garden had yanked off my collar and told the dog catcher to, “make sure he gets what he deserves.” She had then slipped him what looked like $10. My fate had been sealed for just $10! I had a small fortune of bones and left shoes I had buried in the backyard I would have been more than willing to exchange for my freedom.

“Let’s get you out of here” my teenage liberator exclaimed as he peeled out of the parking lot while simultaneously dialing on his little brick. I was finally on my way home.