Memoirs of a Mal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Alaskan Malamutes are by far the most magnificent, beautiful, smart, and oh,and did I mention goofy dogs on this planet? Thus begins the story of a Malamute puppy and her journey from unwanted to rescued and finding her true home.

Submitted: July 20, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 20, 2012




Memoirs of a Mal

Part I: Charlie

Chapter I

Being two and a half years old, I never thought my life would be taking as many twists and turns as it has.  Unfortunately, my situation has become more common than most people like to think.  And thanks to the internet and other forms of modern communication, more is known today about the plight of animals being rescued from abusive situations. Most of us have been fortunate enough to be placed into loving homes.  I am one of those statistics.  And here is my story.

I was born on a cold October morning somewhere in Washington State.  The scene was simplistic in nature and typical of the area.  There were several acres of land on which stood an older two-story home, garage, and a barn.  The house was built in the early 1900’s with a wrap-around porch.  It had a certain weathered look that would have been historically beautiful if not for the sagging porch and shutters swinging from a single nail.  Oak trees marked the property line along the road and continued up the driveway.  The yard was large and had not seen a lawn mower since in the invention of the motorized ones came into being.  The grass was tall and the weeds had taken up permanent residence with no signs of leaving.  Oak trees marked the property line along the road and continued up the driveway.  The garage was just a dilapidated.  The roof sagged from years of falling snow and heavy rains.  And the inside, well that would have been a picker’s dream with all of the junk that had been accumulating from different generations of ‘collectors’. 

And now we come to the barn, where, yes, I was born.  I know it would be joke to some who would hear that I was born in a barn.  But, I can tell you that this was no joke, nor was it a dream.As I mentioned before, it was a cold October morning and the first snow had already fallen a couple of days before.  The barn was large enough to hold six horse stalls, three on each side of the large walkway in between them.  There was also a tack room which was more like a tool shed and held rusted shovels, hoes, rakes and various other tools that hung from the walls. As with the stalls, the tack room floor was covered with old straw and hay.  But, fortunately, it did not have quite as much of the smelly mounds that the stalls had. It was just one of the places the rats had taken up residence along with their ‘deposits’.  In one corner, lay my mom, a two-year old Alaskan Malamute named Jasmine.  She was a beautiful fluffy black and white with soft chocolate brown eyes.  Her pom-pom tail flipped in a curly cue behind her back and ears as soft as velvet.  Her body was weighed down with her unborn puppies as she lay in wait for her babies to be born.  It wouldn’t be much longer, as she pawed at the makeshift bedding, fluffing it up to make it more comfortable for her and her puppies.

Jasmine heard a commotion coming from outside the barn. 

‘Are you kidding me, Angus?’ the female voice screamed. ‘When were you going to tell me she was pregnant?’

‘Come on, Bertha, I was going to tell you,’ the male voice replied, ‘but I kept forgetting.’

‘So, what are we going to do with all these puppies?’ she asked.

‘Just put a sign up and give them away, I guess.’

‘We are not going to just give them away; they are pure bred Alaskan Malamute! We are going to ask something for them, even it if it’s wrong,’ came the reply.

Jasmine cowered in the corner, hoping the couple would not come into the tack room.  She so desperately wanted to deliver the puppies in peace and quiet, alone.  She also hoped for some alone time with her babies before they were sold to their next owner.  She started to feel the first pains of labor and let out a whine.  This was her first litter and she hoped she knew what to do as the pains became more frequent.

Meanwhile, Bertha paced the living room trying to figure out how to get out of this latest fiasco.  

© Copyright 2018 Bethany Watts. All rights reserved.

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