Isabella Pasagian, Writer



By Izzy Pasagian


I wake up to the smell of sizzling bacon frying on a hot skillet. I yawn, vigorously shake my head, and scratch my neck. After propelling myself out of my pillowy, comforting bed, I quickly scamper across the hall and into my owner’s room. I lick Lily’s face to wake her up, disturbing whatever strands of hair are not in a large knot.


She yawns and groans . . .


“Stop it, Carl, ew!”


I bolt across the room and I don’t stop until she gets up. Then I jump on her and prop my paws on her chest and lick her face again.


“Okay, okay, I’m up,” she moans as she stokes the golden fur on the top of my head. Man, that took awhile, and I’m exhausted. 


We race to the stairs ( I win), where we raced again to the bacon ( I win again), and we race to see who can jump on the table and eat all of the bacon (where of course, I will). 


“Carl, down boy!” Mom scolds, I whimper and heave myself off the table, my shoulders slumped.


“Uh, he’s just trying to say that you are an amazing chef, mom,” Lily tries.


“Nice try, how about you guys play outside, I’m not finished with breakfast.” Lily walks outside solemnly, and I prance after her. I yip at her to slow down, she can be so fast sometimes. I inhale the amazing scent of the outdoor air. Trees. A thunderstorm coming on. Flowers in Mom’s garden.


Lily sits on the stoop and rolls her bright yellow skateboard underneath her feet. She looks at me, and I give her a happy bark. She looks at the skateboard. It doesn’t do anything.  I don’t know why she needs a skateboard, dogs are way better pets. I growl and paw at the blinding skateboard, trying to get it to play with me. It still doesn’t move.


“Hmm . . .” Lily murmurs. She scoops me up in her arms, hooking them underneath my stomach. She scrambles to get me on the skateboard. She props me up on the neon board. Leaving me nervously waiting for what happens next.


I shut my eyes so I don’t have to see what happens next.


“One, two,  three!” Lily shouts, and she gives a hard shove on the skateboard, sending both of us flying straight for Mom’s rosebush. I feel sharp poking all over my furry body. I Whine and yip and bark.


“Carl!” Lily shouts, as I stumble out of the bush and attempt to shake out some of the thorns. Lily picks out the thorns while hugging me and apologizing over and over.


“I’m so sorry Carl,” she wouldn’t stop saying.


She made it up to me by sneaking me five pieces of bacon underneath the table.