Suddenly, I felt something warm against my smooth, silky fur. It was my mother, and she was washing me. I whined in pure satisfaction. It was my first day on Earth.
Two weeks later, my eyesight was perfect, however, I still toddled around the shed on my unstable legs. The next day, I was separated from my mother, and together with my litter-mates, we were brought to an island named Singapore.
When we were finally at the pet shop, I realized what I was. I realized I was a Yorkshire Terrier, or what dog lovers would affectionately call a Yorkie. My birthplace was Australia, and I had been imported to Singapore. I knew I was about to be sold, and yearned to have a good master, and to have a nice home to live in. Every single day, there would be people coming in to look at us, and I would clamour excitedly to the edge and try to attract attention, hoping that someone would buy me. Finally, the much awaited day arrived and I was brought to my new home. .
My owner, was a fourteen year old boy by the name of Nicholas. He loved me very much, and he promised me that he would love and care for me his whole life. I returned his love, and loved him much more than myself after that. Every day when he came home from school, I would shower him with licks and canter round him, giddy with joy, and nearly knocking myself out with my hyperactive tail, which refused to stay still. He would make time for me, and brushed my coat, which gleamed under his care. He would caress me lovingly, and I would whine happily.
But alas, all good things must come to an end. All of a sudden, he started to neglect me, and I found myself noticeably thinner, with my coat in tangles. I started to feel afraid, and that he would abandon me and leave me alone. Day after day, I was only fed, and he no longer talked to me, neither did he play with me. I missed his voice, and I knew, sooner or later, I would be sent to the animal shelter.
