Pit Bulls Are Bad

Darn if I know where my story begins. One moment I am the happiest dog in the world, cruising down the road, head hanging out the window, my cute ears flapping in the foggy breeze of Lompoc. This is heaven, I am purring to myself, silly grin plastered on my snout. Next moment, boom! Door clicks open, familiar hands shove me out. I hit the gravel of a Wal-Mart parking lot with a yelp. Hey! I am pregnant here! (uh...have I mentioned that?) What do you think you’re doing? Lose something? Startled strangers gasp at my abrupt appearance, then stare at me and point. Am I embarrassed or what? I run as fast as I can to catch up to My Guy but those babies bouncing in my stomach slow me down. Then – he’s gone. Abandoned at Wal-Mart, not a year old and babies due any day. Could it be more humiliating? Oh yeah – pit bulls are real bad.