Rough Draft - The Cat and Dog (not sure yet) I remember how happy I was when lived on the farm as a child. I liked that the air smelled so fresh and how the animals all learned to bond and live with one another. Every day I would wake up to the familiar croak of the rooster, dress into my plaid overalls, brush my long black hair and start a new day; milking the cows, feeding the chickens, opening the gates for the goats to run through, and seeing our old German Sheppard lying on the front porch. For as long as I can remember, that old dog had always chased the goats up the hill where the grass was greenest and where the sun was shining brightest. After a few weeks, our nice family cat gave birth to a kitten; it was a small ginger cat with bright orange frizzy fur, small green eyes. This kitten looked cute except for its mouth because it was curved into a snarl with a row of sharp tiny teeth and it was a troublemaker from the first day; it ran around the house, scratching the couch, wrecking the curtains, and it would never listen to us when we called its name. Even my pet goldfish was eaten by it! One day my dad had enough of it and said: "This cat cannot live in the house anymore! Leave it on the front porch!" I agreed and left it to live on the front porch. To everyone's surprise, the cat started pestering our old dog. It would scratch the dog with its sharp claws and bite with its sharp paws when it was lying on the veranda under the sun. It pestered the dog day and night, now and then, never stopping. It seemed like the cat hated the dog and wanted it to get in big trouble. The angered dog would always try to chase it up the hill but the cat was too fast for the old aged dog. The cat would climb up to the lowest branch on the old oak tree and just stare down at the German Sheppard as if it was mocking it. The dog tried to climb up but it wasn't possible for him to catch the cunning cat. Time passed by and the cat would always seem to get away with it when it pestered the dog, because the dog would never really fight back. Soon, our old dog started sleeping more and more, and it was too tired to move anymore. It lost interest in everything; it stopped chasing the goats, it stopped begging us for food and most importantly, it stopped communicating with us. A month passed before the dog died of old age. I remember that my parents were devastated because they have been with it since it was a puppy. My dad kept saying: "He was such a good dog. My job has been a lot easier because of him and no dog will ever be able to replace him!" My mother wouldn't talk about her feelings with us but we all knew it was hard for her to accept the fact that our dog died. Although it was a painful experience for us, we soon moved on and got a new German Sheppard to
