Poorly written short stories about animals from home Part 1


Every girlfriend I’ve ever had that had a pet, the pet has always ended up loving me more than the girl. Animals and I get along. We seem to be kindred spirits.

Many years ago, I got a call on Christmas Eve from an ex-girlfriend whom I hadn’t seen or talked to in over a year. She called me late Christmas Eve and asked if I could come over and see about Tater (her dog). He would not come out from under her bed, even for a treat. She was worried something was wrong with him.

I agreed to come over. Enough time had passed where I wasn’t concerned with seeing the girlfriend after a long time. I was actually more excited to see Tater. Tater was a great dog. A little black and white beagle-like mutt. He was always a good companion. Still one of my favorite dogs I’ve ever known.

When I arrived, it was near midnight. From her front door you could see into her bedroom and see most of the bed. When she opened the door, Tater saw me, crawled out from under the bed, limped over to my feet and died.

My ex was dialing the phone of the vet as he crawled to me. I informed her that when she got them on the phone to gear the conversation as to what to with a dog who is deceased. She began crying and screaming. She had, had this dog since she was a little girl. She had, had two dogs in her life since she was little and the other passed away while we were dating.

When dating she told me she wanted to have them both stuffed when they died. I talked her out of that, because that’s insane. I had convinced her to cremate them instead, so Dutches (the other dog) sat on the coffee table in an urn.

She wanted to cremate Tater as well and given that it was Christmas eve, it would be difficult. The vet informed her that if she wanted to have him cremated that it would have to wait until the 26th. He informed her that her best option for keeping the dog would be to put him in a hefty bag and throw him in the bathtub with as much ice as could fit in the tub.

So off I went to buy hefty bags and ice. I put him in three or four hefty bags and had bought literally all the ice they had at 7-11. I dragged him to the tub and he was very heavy. Even with three or four bags, I was worried about them ripping. I lifted him into the tub and covered him in ice. The entire time of this chore, she cried and screamed on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. It should be noted that the bathroom was a good distance from the front door. You had to go through the kitchen, down a hall and passed the guest bedroom.

I took a moment to say my respectful goodbyes to Tater and stayed the night on the couch. I got up early in the morning and loaded more ice onto Tater and left in a hurry to spend the day with my family, leaving her alone on Christmas day with her childhood dog iced down in the bath tub.

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