I’ll never forget the day they came to take me from my family. I was very young at the time and didn’t know what was happening. I can still remember that afternoon. I was at home with my family, when my world was turned upside down. I was play-fighting with my brother when they came in. Two people, a man and a woman, complete strangers. My brother and I stopped messing around on the living room rug, and watched them watching us. They studied us both for a long moment before the woman pointed at me. 

I was grabbed by force and dragged from the room. 

My mother looked at me sadly, resignation in her eyes, as they took me away. The door closed behind us. I never saw her again. 

I was thrown in the back of a car. The woman drove, while the man sat next to me, really close, to make sure I didn’t try to escape.

Sometime later, we pulled up outside a house on an unfamiliar street. Still trembling and in shock, I was bundled from the car, and carried into the house.  When we were safely inside, the door was locked behind us. 

Once the house was secure, and there was no way I could escape, they released their grip. They showed me around the house, where everything was, where I would sleep and eat. I sensed I was here for the future. The move was permanent. This would be my new home. I would be living here, with them, from now on. 

As time went on I got used to my new surroundings. I settled in to the house, and the couple and I grew into a routine. Every time they left the house, the door was locked behind them, keeping me inside, trapped. When they were gone, I tried banging on the windows and calling out for help, but nobody seemed to hear me. 

They treated me well, taking me out for regular exercise on the local park, but never letting me wander too far away. I knew they were concerned I would make a run for it, and try and escape, to try and get free, to get back to my mother, and my brother. 

I was their prisoner regardless of how fair they made this prison. 

As time went on, the memories of my family faded, and I struggled to recall life before living with this couple. I decided I should count myself lucky. They were looking after me. I was well-fed and comfortable. Each night, having eaten, the three of us would settle down for the evening on the sofa. I was treated well, and eventually became happy and content with this new life I had.

One afternoon, several years later, while we were walking on the park, I saw a familiar face. He was older and taller, but it was him, it was my brother. 

I rushed over to him, and we stared at each other, unable to believe we had been reunited by chance. We sniffed each other, our tails wagging like mad, unable to hide our sheer delight. Before long, I was put back on my lead and dragged away, and taken back home.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom