Today, I thought we’d take a break from the ‘less than one hundred word story challenge’ and instead have something a little different.

Hugh Carey, owner of retired greyhound, Rich, has written a story in the point of view of his dog. Hugh hopes to raise awareness of how important it is for retired greyhounds to find new homes.

Let’s start with seeing what Rich looks like.

And here’s Rich’s story. 

Hi, my greyhound racing name was Caribbean Rich, but now I’m known as ‘Rich’ by two lovely humans, Lorraine and Hugh, who I adopted. I call them Mum and Dad. Woof Woof.

I started life as a puppy sired by a well-known doggie dad called Kinloch Brae. Raised and trained in Ireland racing under the name of Tip and Skip, I managed to receive a best pooch of the litter award. From an early age, I just knew I was destined for greatness and I did indeed perform well. My racing career consisted of eight outright wins and several placings, earning in excess of £5,000. I like to think I paid my way in life.

I’m not into tattoos in a big way, but my dad, Hugh, says I have one in each ear which  confirms I must have inherited the luck of the Irish when growing up. I enjoyed the thrill of racing, the many venues I visited and the people within the racing fraternity who touched upon my life, and kept my best interests at heart.

My last race was in 2013 when unfortunately I damaged my foot. This was termed as a wrist injury and my racing career ended abruptly. Luckily for me, I was kept safe until a vacancy became available at Bark Inn Greyhound Rehoming Kennels in Birmingham. I was fed, watered, and kept warm and snug. The lovely staff and volunteers made sure I had regular exercise.

One day, I overheard the staff saying, I was to have my picture taken. Wow. Famous again.

The photo was to help find suitable people for me to adopt, and hopefully get me my forever home, the one I always knew was waiting for me. A word that I hadn’t heard before was mentioned. Retirement. My picture was splashed across the internet. Boy did I look cute?

On Wednesday, Mum and Dad came to visit. They couldn’t take their eyes of me. Home checks were carried out, well, I didn’t want to end up in any old place, did I? It had to be nice and cosy, have a garden, no cats, a big fence to keep me safe, places to go walkies with pleasant smells too.

Saturday arrived. My big day. A car pulled up outside the kennels and two humans climbed out. It was love at first sight for us all. Mum wanted me. Dad wanted me. And most important of all, I wanted them. A brilliant result, this internet dating lark. Yayyyyyyy. Retirement here I come….

My New Home

Tucked in safely with treats, I snuggled down for the long journey to the south coast. A place humans call The Seaside. Whatever that is? We stopped after a four-hour drive and I stepped out. Wow. There was a gentle breeze in the air. I sniffed. I’d never smelt anything like this before. Dad said it was salt I could smell.

So this was the sea. Woof woof. I love it. Blue sky, water as far as my eye could see, and sand like I used to race on. This was Heaven. My choice of location for retirement was absolutely a Doggie Dream.

My dad’s, ninety-year-old dad, was in a nursing home suffering from dementia. One day my dad took me to the home, a building in Worthing, to visit his dad and lots of other elderly residents. Dad introduced me to them all.

They welcomed me with open arms and fussed over me. I loved it to bits. They asked lots of questions about me and made me feel like like a famous VIP.

I didn’t sit down but stayed standing up. I barely barked or made a sound.  Dad said I looked regal and majestic as I stood there observing the environment around me. The first thing I noticed was the elderly people’s faces lighting up. Their years of trials and pains slipped slowly away like sticks floating down a river. My reward was watching them smile and laugh. My new-found extended family in the shape of Grandad Bill, and his fellow residents, gave me a warm glow inside.

I visited the nursing home frequently. The first time it was sad to say goodbye, but going back again gave me, and them, the love and affection we needed. No matter how old we get, everyone’s good memories may be triggered by the simplest things in life.

I know that one day I will be old too. For every human year, I age seven years. I’m seven now, so in human terms, that makes me forty-nine. Luckily my mind still tells me I’m a teenager. I can still reach speeds of up to forty miles per hour in six strides if I put my mind to it.

I can safely say, I love my new family and surroundings and know this was the path for which I was destined.

Thank you for reading my story.

Rich.

Woof Woof.

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And thank you to Hugh for telling Rich’s story on his behalf.

 

 

Thank you to writer, Kevin J Milsom, for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words’ challenge. You can read his response, Travel Plans, below.

‘You won’t need all that stuff, Sarah!’ Mother’s voice held its usual firmness.

Naturally, I ignored her.

‘Yes…changes of clothes, for sure. Many things!’

Mother smiled.

‘You won’t, my darling.’ She frowned. ‘Are you in pain?’

I realised I wasn’t. Hurrah for paracetamol!

Harry gripped my hand tightly. I saw him clearly now, yet different somehow. My whole family looked different.

Mother smiled at my expression.

‘They can’t see us now, darling. It’s time. I won’t leave you again.’

Initially, the light was blinding; just as the deepest peace enveloped me. ‘Oh Mother, it’s so beautiful.’

96 words

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Well I’m sure you’ll agree, that one was quite a weepy.

 

Thank you, Jillian Andrews for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words challenge’ with Lost in Thought.

She sits alone on the bench. She wears a white hat as shade against the sun. Her pink jacket keeps the chill off her thinning arms. Her walking stick lay beside her. She’s lost in her thoughts but tilts her head as a breeze rustles the leaves by her feet. The coolness feels good against her skin. Shading her eyes she looks towards me but doesn’t realise I’m watching her. Her face is beautiful and lined with age. A hint of sadness shows in her blue eyes.

She sees me and smiles.

We sit together.  My mother.  My friend.

99 words

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Thank you, Brian Moate, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge, when he takes himself back to being a young child, with his submission Reminiscence.

‘Come ‘ere ya  little scamp’ yells me Nan ‘that’s got a reight mucky face, and there’s enough dirt be’ind yer ears to grow taters. Ah’ll ha’ ter gie thee a spit wash!’

But I had different ideas.

She tried, but I twisted and struggled, and screamed blue murder. No way was I getting a spit wash from her mucky hanky.

Try as she might she couldn’t get me. Eee, she wasn’t  half mad!

‘Tha’ll cop it when yer Mum comes home,’ she bellows. She picked me up and put me in the dolly tub so I couldn’t climb out.

99 words

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Well I don’t know about you but that one certainly gave me a laugh. Thank you, Brian.

 

Thank you, Allison Symes, for taking part in the above challenge with her story, Views. You can find out more about Allison’s writing by visiting her website.

An Agatha Christie character spotted a murder on a train. Ellen saw drab passengers.

She wanted inspiration for the novel she’d write. Nothing fed the muse here.

Ellen picked up her magazine and became engrossed in its first story about a commuter who was so far up herself she could come out the other way and still not realise she amused passengers.

The creation, Elle, travelled between Southampton and Portsmouth, as did Ellen.

Ellen looked up as an older woman coughed.

Mrs Drab held up her magazine. ‘My story is in here – the first one.’

Ellen screamed.

Ends.

99 words.

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Thank you to writer, Gerry Dudley, who has sent in her story, Unknown, to take part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge.

She awoke, her tummy doing a nervous flip. Today’s the day, there’s no turning back.

Later nervously queuing, she wondered, were they scared too?

Her eyes locked, momentarily, with a tall chap. Hastily she looked away. The queue moved steadily forward. Her allocated seat 13F. That’s not a good omen.

Reaching her seat, she received the most generous smile from the handsome chap in the queue, by his side was her vacant seat.

She was glad she hadn’t chickened out, thinking ’13’ maybe lucky after all. Now her tummy felt excitement as they took off soaring into the unknown.

99 words

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Thank you to author, Patricia Feinberg Stoner, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge with her lovely story, Very Nice, Dear.

‘I never wanted you,’ she’d say.

Every Mother’s Day I bought her a red rose out of my slender pocket money.

‘Very nice, dear,’ she’d say.

I so wanted her approval. My first job, my headship, my professorship,

‘Very nice dear,’ she’d say.

Today the clearance men are emptying her house. ‘Is this important?’ says one, handing me a cardboard box.

Under the felted dust is my name in her precise writing. The rubber band snaps under my touch.  I open the lid and stand looking at the slender corpses, their scarlet heads turned to black. Red roses.

98 words

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Another weepy one. Have you noticed how these micro stories have promoted creepy or weepy themes?

You can find out more about Patricia’s writing by visiting her website.

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Thank you to Author, Anita D Hunt, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge’ with her lovely story, A Wish for Dad.

September 2015

‘Hi Dad! Happy birthday!’ I said as I bounded up the drive, potted orchid held aloft like a grand prize. ‘I didn’t buy you a T shirt this year, I’m bored with buying you T shirts.’

Dad laughed as he took his present, ‘Don’t be daft, but this is lovely.’

September 2016

‘Hi Dad. Happy birthday. I bought you flowers again, I hope you like them,’ I said as my tears mingled with the water I was pouring into the urn. ‘I wish I could buy you a T shirt again…’

93 words.

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I think you’ll agree that one was quite a weepy.

You can find out more about Anita’s writing by visiting her website.

 

Thank you to my latest writer, author, Lynette Creswell, who has taken up the challenge to write a story in less than one hundred words. Lynette has written a lovely nature story titled, The Butterfly. You can read her story below. If you’d like to know more about Lynette’s writing, visit here.

I hear the call of nature. The pond is still, the breeze gentle. I’ve grown to bursting point. I take a deep breath and expand my body. The soft silken thread rips in two. I break free. The heat from the sun is welcoming, its yellow rays flicker across my back. I shiver. The dampness around me evaporates. I lift my wings as they dance on the breeze. The stillness is broken. A shadow, a flash of brown and green. The leaf shudders and I turn to fly away. As I ascend, a long thin tongue flicks towards me.

99 words

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Thank you to Colin Ward, author of To Die For, who has taken part in the story in less than one hundred words challenge. Colin writes thrillers and has made no exception in his ninety-nine word story, Leaving. To find out more about Colin’s writing you can visit his website

Everything was arranged. Tickets booked and bag packed. He’d triple-checked his passport was there. The chlorine smell lingered on his clothes.

‘Never leave your home dirty,’ his mother always said. Advice akin to why one should always wear clean pants.

‘Just in case the worst happened and…’

He silenced her voice.

Starting the car and looking over to the house as a matter of habit. He hummed a popular John Denver song about a jet plane.

He was about to put the car into reverse when he saw the thin, dark red line down the edge of his thumb.

99 words

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