Dialogue

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Lesson Transcript

Dog Rescue
"Can you come down to my office for a minute?" My husband's voice sounds urgent.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Just come down when you get a minute."
I walk down the green cinder block hallway to the guidance office and into the small room on the right. David is on the floor playing with a small, white, wriggling puppy. He looks up.
"They came and got me this morning. Michelle Hoggard had him locked up in her car with a cup full of Mountain Dew and half a biscuit."
"It's eighty-five degrees outside!"
"I know it."
The puppy has toddled over to my feet. He looks up at me. I pick him up.
"So, what do you think?" he says.
The puppy licks my face. His tummy is taut and pink. I smile.
"I guess we don't have much choice, do we?" I say.
"I reckon not."
When the bell rings at five minutes after three, my husband and I give our explanations and leave early to take our new charge to the veterinarian for a checkup. On the way, the puppy sits up between us in the cab of our old truck, panting and looking out the windshield.
"What should we name him?"
I shrug. "Do you want to wait until after the vet?"
"No." My husband pats the dog. "He looks okay to me."
As we try to think of a name that will fit, I think of all the things that could go wrong at the vet. The puppy could have worms; at worst, he could have Parvo. This would mean almost certain death.
"I don't think I can go through Parvo again," I say.
"No, but he's okay." My husband smiles at me, then down at the dog.
"I can tell."
For us, this is dog number five. We are a couple of softies when it comes to a stray. And though sometimes it may break our hearts, we will continue to rescue them.

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Dog Rescue

"Can you come down to my office for a minute?" My husband's voice sounds urgent.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Just come down when you get a minute."

I walk down the green cinder block hallway to the guidance office and into the small room on the right. David is on the floor playing with a small, white, wriggling puppy. He looks up.

"They came and got me this morning. Michelle Hoggard had him locked up in her car with a cup full of Mountain Dew and half a biscuit."

"It's eighty-five degrees outside!"

"I know it."

The puppy has toddled over to my feet. He looks up at me. I pick him up.

"So, what do you think?" he says.

The puppy licks my face. His tummy is taut and pink. I smile.

"I guess we don't have much choice, do we?" I say.

"I reckon not."

When the bell rings at five minutes after three, my husband and I give our explanations and leave early to take our new charge to the veterinarian for a checkup. On the way, the puppy sits up between us in the cab of our old truck, panting and looking out the windshield.

"What should we name him?"

I shrug. "Do you want to wait until after the vet?"

"No." My husband pats the dog. "He looks okay to me."
As we try to think of a name that will fit, I think of all the things that could go wrong at the vet. The puppy could have worms; at worst, he could have Parvo. This would mean almost certain death.

"I don't think I can go through Parvo again," I say.

"No, but he's okay." My husband smiles at me, then down at the dog.

"I can tell."

For us, this is dog number five. We are a couple of softies when it comes to a stray. And though sometimes it may break our hearts, we will continue to rescue them.