At just 7-weeks old, Agatha is adopted and taken to her new home.
I am a puppy.
I am little.
I am very little.
I live with Mama.
I live with my sisters.
I used to have more brothers and sisters, but they went away with people.
Today, new people came.
They have hands.
Hands pick me up.
Hands rub my ears.
Hands smell like many things.
Hands taste like many things too.
I like to chew hands.
My gums hurt.
Chewing helps.
The lady picks me up.
I wiggle.
I want down.
My sisters are still there.
Mama is in the den.
The lady holds me close.
The man carries things.
We go outside.
I see a big white machine.
It is very big.
It is very tall.
The people take me inside the machine.
The lady holds me.
The big white machine growls.
Rrrrrrrrrr.
I do not like it.
Then we move.
My sisters do not come.
Mama does not come.
I look back.
The place with Mama gets smaller.
Then I cannot see it.
The lady pets me.
She says, “Agatha.”
Agatha?
She says it again.
“Agatha Christie.”
The man says it too.
Maybe Agatha is me.
The big white machine goes.
And goes.
And goes.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
My tummy feels funny.
I sit in the lady’s lap.
I chew her hand.
That helps.
I sleep.
I wake up.
We are still going.
I sleep again.
Then we stop.
We go into a big store.
The store smells like dogs.
It smells like food.
It smells like treats.
It smells like toys.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
The people put me in a buggy.
The buggy rolls.
I do not like it.
The bottom is slippery.
I try to climb out.
The lady puts me back.
I try again.
She puts me back again.
The people buy things.
A collar.
A leash.
A bed.
A Kong.
A big bag of puppy food.
Are they for me?
I do not know.
I only know I do not like the buggy.
hen we go back to the big white machine.
Rrrrrrrrrr.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Soon we stop again.
The lady carries me out.
I see plants.
Big plants.
Little plants.
Plants in pots.
Plants on tables.
Plants everywhere.
I smell dirt.
I smell water.
I smell leaves.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
Then we go inside a house.
The house smells new.
It smells like the people.
It smells like another dog.
Then I see him.
He is small.
He is fluffy.
He is bigger than me.
I wag my tail.
He does not wag his tail.
I walk to him.
He walks away.
I follow him.
He walks faster.
I follow faster.
His name is Charlie.
Hello, Charlie!
Charlie does not say hello.
Then I have to pee.
So I pee.
The people say, “No, Agatha.”
Their voices are serious.
Oh.
No pee inside.
I did not know.
They take me outside.
I see grass.
I see trees.
I smell many things.
Then I have to poop.
Pooping feels private.
I walk to the edge of the woods.
I go behind a tree.
Then I poop.
The people are happy.
This is confusing.
Pee inside is bad.
Poop behind a tree is good.
People have many rules.
Everything is new.
The house is new.
The plants are new.
Charlie is new.
My collar is new.
My bed is new.
My Kong is new.
My name is new.
The people say, “Agatha.”
They hold me.
They rub my ears.
They let me chew my new Kong.
Then it gets dark.
They put me in a crate.
It has my new bed.
It is soft.
But I am sad.
I cry.
I howl.
I say, “I want to go home!”
I miss my sisters.
I miss Mama.
I am just a baby.
This night is hard.
Maybe this is home.
But I do not know that yet.
