Abigail would run away, and not come home. Pam turned back towards home to attend to Spot’s supper, and her own, without much hope left that she would ever see Abigail again. She was such a sweet, wonderful dog. Pam remembered getting her as a puppy, and how Spot used to run at her, clipping her back legs and pushing her over, and how Abigail had grown until that trick didn’t work anymore.
Thinking about these and other memories of Abigail as a puppy, Pam slowed down to take the turn into her own street, and just out of the corner of her eye, saw something white in the weeds up on the hill. Could that be her dog? Terrified that being so close to the main road, it meant that she had gotten hit by a car and was dead, or dying, Pam turned the car around and parked safely off to the side. Almost shaking with fear that her dog was dead, she got out and began walking towards the white patch in the bushes. There was no movement. She called Abigail’s name and still no movement. She called again, louder, and a big white head looked up. It was Abigail! But was she hurt? Why didn’t she move? Pam walked closer to her, afraid to see that she had been injured and couldn’t get up. Taking a deep breath because she knew this was the final test, Pam said, “Abigail, come here!” Abigail rose from her hiding place, came to Pam, and sat at her feet obediently. Pam was so relieved to see her dog alive and well that it took her a minute to be angry that she had caused her so much worry and fear. Both hands went on both hips. “What are you doing up here?” she asked angrily. “Why didn’t you come to me when I called? I have been looking everywhere for you – you’re a bad girl!” Abigail sat obediently at her master’s feet, and slowly looked back beyond the bushes she had been hiding in. Pam followed her gaze, and saw ……… chickens. White chickens, clucking and pecking at the ground. Oh no, Pam thought, another dog eating chickens? Pam looked quickly around the weeds to see if there were piles of chicken feathers, but there were none. Now Pam began to understand. Abigail had known that Spottie was going after another chicken when she broke out from the pen, and had followed her. Abigail had been guarding the chickens from Spot. That was why Spot had come home without a chicken this time. Abigail was standing guard. The chickens pecked noisily through the yard. Abigail sat at Pam’s feet. Pam’s hands dropped from her hips and went to Abby’s head. “Good girl, Abigail, good girl.” Abigail looked back at the chickens again, surveying her flock. “Good girl, Abigail, good girl.
The second volume of ‘Tales of Spot’ will be published later in 2013. More shenanigans from Spot and her friends.
For more information on the author and other works, please check out the author’s website at lilyhathaway.com.
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