Story Starters, Part 2

Bobby the Dog by Marley
April 6, 2006

The following is the second story Marley and I worked on. This one is a little longer. As with the previous story, I gave her a topic and asked her to elaborate sometimes. Enjoy. . .

When I Was Three Years Old

Bobby died. Bobby had to go to the doctor's and get stitches. He got killed by somebody. Bobby was black on his tummy and his legs and brown on his paws and a little bit on his eyebrows. He was huge. Like this wide and this big. He liked to jump on me when I was three years old. I miss Bobby because he died. And Granny O is dead. I pray for Bobby.

The End

To give a little context to this story (for those of you who don't already know,) Bob was our dog. When Marley was 2 1/2 years old, we had him put to sleep. He was 13 years old and getting very rickety. He had a couple of problems that needed to be dealt with and it seemed like the right time. I don't know how much she actually remembers, but he is definitely a part of her consciousness. About 18 months later, her great-grandma, Granny O, died. So, she kind of has this thing about death.

Here is a picture of the real Bob:



Stay tuned for more stories by Marley.