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Ring! It is 5:30 in the morning and my alarm clock goes off and wakes me up. I strive to press the snooze button with all my might. But all of a sudden a thundering shock strikes me it is Christmas Morning.
I run down stairs whooping to rise everyone from their beds. My mom screams, “Don’t open the presents without us!”
So I wait downstairs for what seemed an eternity. Once my parents finally get downstairs I start ripping open presents.
But enough about me, this story is about my dog Lily. My dog is a one-year-old black lab who already knows how to shake, sit, lay down, and fetch. If you don’t know what shake is, it is a trick where if you say “shake” she will put her paw up and nudge you to shake it. She has a long nose with a light lightning bolt line down it just like her grandfather who was named Zipper because of it.
I think my dog is very smart. She can open and jump the fence. She also is just like a wolf in a pack. She knows that my dad is the alpha male and that my littlest brother, Judge, doesn’t have to be listened to.
She looked so sad and left out this particular Christmas morning that I let her in and tossed her a present.
Well, the story didn’t start on Christmas; it started about one month before when I went shopping for Christmas presents. We stopped the car and skipped into Petsmart with Christmas joy. We went to the dog section and scoured the isles looking for the perfect present for my dog. We found a toy that was just right.
Now back to the story. Immediately she ripped open the present: it was a toy ball that you could fill with kibble, dog food. She could roll it around and eat the treats that fall out. You could even program the ball to say things like “Eat the food, Lily” or “Have fun, Lily” when she rolled it.
The whole rest of the day she played with her toy in the cool, dew of the luscious grass and I played with mine in the closed, stuffy lair of the house.
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