Animal Abuse

                                    

                                              


                          
Prologue
                          
	Summer; such a wonderful season. Warm weather; kids laughing and playing; people walking their dogs. Happiness is bountiful, but it's all a lie. The sun, it masks the hatred and sorrow, the pain that so many must suffer through. I am just like them. My life has been nothing short of hell. And it all began that summer eight years ago...
                          
Part One
                          
The Girl With the Knives
                          
	Back then I was happy. I was only a few weeks old, and it was spring. I didn't know what spring was, but I knew I loved it. There were bountiful aromas to smell and an endless supply of squirrels to chase. My siblings and I played in the grass of the backyard. I lived with a nice family. There were two kids that would play with us often and their mother never seemed to relax; she was always busy with something. Then there was the man with the blue trousers that always sat on the leather sofa watching the television and stroking his black beard; "Television Man" as I called him. One day I overheard him say something odd to my mother.
                          
	"I'm sorry Scarlet, but we just can't take care of all the pups. We have to give them away," he said.
                          
	There was a look of terrible sadness and disparity in my mother's eyes as he made his comment.
                          
	Later, in June of that same year, the family had a huge yard sale. They placed my siblings and I into a padded box and put us out front like we were junk to be sold. Mother looked down upon us, heartbreak in her eyes. As the day progressed, hands of all different colors and shapes reached in and patted us, and sometimes took one of us as well. Soon I was the only one left. The runt of the litter; the one nobody wanted. The family had begun folding down the empty boxes and putting away what hadn't been sold when someone drove up. I heard a woman's voice say, "are there any puppies left?" Then their footsteps as the walked across the paved driveway to the box I was in.
                          
"All we have left is the runt. We haven't been able to sell her. You can take her free of charge if you want," the television man said. Suddenly my mother started barking. "Calm down Girl, calm down," the man said. Her barking only grew louder. She just couldn't watch as another one of her children was taken before her eyes. She was defending me. "Jess, come here a minute and bring the leash!" he yelled across the lawn to his wife. A few seconds later I heard my mother begin to growl. There was a click and a sudden pained yip; then whimpering. A set of hands I didn't recognize reached into the box and picked me up. When my head breached the top of the box, I saw what had happened. My mother was on her leash, tied to the railing. The man must have yanked her over there to get her away from the box for the person that wanted to buy me. There was a red mark on my mother's neck where the collar had dug in. She tried to run forward toward me as I was lifted from the box, but was held back by the leash. I yipped and reached out for her and tried to jump out of the hands, but they held my small figure firmly in place. My mother and I both were helpless. The foreign man next to the woman I was held by shook hands with Television Man and soon were moving toward their bright blue car. 
                          
	She put me in the back seat and then she sat in the passenger seat. "What should we call her Jim?" she asked. "How about Tulip," he responded. She seemed content with the name and said, "Tulip? I like it. I hope the doctor was right when he told us that a dog would help with Jenny's depression." 
                          
	The car bounced along the road for nearly two hours. I struggled to keep myself in place but somehow managed. Finally the car came to a stop and the woman took me out. Their house was a beige color with a bright red front door. The garage was angled slightly toward the back but still visible from the end of the driveway where we were. She brought me in through the front door and said, "Welcome to your new home Tulip." I hated the name Tulip. I wanted to use the name my mother had given me; Krystacia. As I looked around, I heard footsteps from the upper level. Then I saw a girl come down the stairs by the door. "You got a dog?" she asked. "It's for you. We named her Tulip. She's a German Shepherd," the woman replied.