I sat there with Pit in my arms. My father stood high over me, his arms crossed. "I won't let you take him away. Never!" I scream, pulling Pit closer to me. "He's a dangerous breed! A beast! We can't have him here!" He leans down and signals an eye command to hand Pit to him. But I don't. I just quickly turn around in my chair, facing my back towards his insincere face. "Never." I whisper back. Finally I think of plan. I could run; run far away from my family and its leader. Or I could hide; no, hiding would just make everything worse. Instead, I stomp up to my room with Pit on a leash trotting by my side. I'm the only one that understands him. I can't even imagine the many horrifying experiences he's been through. Especially the storm. For a pup, being alone in a tornado is so terrifying, it's like the end of the world. And since his own mother went missing, he doesn't know how to drink water. So I have to teach him myself, somehow.
The next day, I lay in bed. Pit lays next to my face, still asleep. I pet him on the head. His fur is soft, but still a little ruff, since I found him pretty much hairless on the street. I can't help it, and a small tear runs down my face. The poor thing. Eventually he wakes up, and squeaks up his little puppy bark. The one that they think is "tough". He squirms toward me. "Silly. Let's get breakfast."
