the stick
after the shooting of my mother they decided it was my fault and sold me on to the next possible buyer. My master was cruel and he always kept a stick with nails hammered through it in the corner of his coat cuboard and would hit me with it every time i lost a fight he entered me in one day after about a year of his care i came home from a lost fight knowing what was in store for me but instead he said that it was time for my walkies and to come on boy he was being un-usually nice he picked up his jacket and a potato bag that was about half the size of me, my collar and my lead and some other stuff i didn't see.........(THE NEXT BIT IS REALLY HORRIBLE SO YOUNGER READERS GO BACK)
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