The Perfect Dog
During summer vacations, I would volunteer at the vets, so I’d seen a lot of dogs. Minnie was by far the funniest-looking dog I’d ever seen. Thin curly hair barely covered her sausage-shaped body. Her bugged-out
eyes always seemed surprised. And her tail looked like a rat’s tail.
She was brought to the vet to be put to sleep because her owners didn’t want her anymore. I thought Minnie had a sweet personality, though. “No one should judge her by her looks,” I thought.
So the vet spayed her and gave her the necessary shots. Finally, I advertised Minnie in the
local paper: “Funny-looking dog, well behaved, needs a loving family.”
When a young man called, I warned him that Minnie was strange-looking. The boy on the phone told me that his grandfather’s sixteen-year-old dog had just died. They wanted Minnie no matter what.
I gave Minnie a good bath and fluffed up what was left of her scraggly hair. Then we waited for them to arrive.
At last, an old car drove up in front of the vets. Two kids raced to the door. They scooped Minnie into their arms and rushed her out to their grandfather, who was waiting in the car. I hurried behind them to see his reaction to Minnie.
Inside the car, the grandfather cradled Minnie in his arms and stroked her soft hair. She licked his face. Her rattail wagged around so quickly that it looked like it might fly off her body. It was love at first lick.
“She’s perfect!” the old man exclaimed.
I was thankful that Minnie had found the good home that she deserved.
That’s when I saw that the grandfather’s eyes were a milky white color–he was blind.