Young Writers Society

The dog did something bad. Very bad. It chewed my phone. It chewed my LIFE. It chewed the connection to the outer world from this barren household amidst the fields of Northumberland.

I walked into the kitchen to see my device in doggy treat pieces on the floor. The screen punctured with holes that looked like it had been shot; the classic murder.

My Mum argued that it wasn’t very bad at all, and that it was a good thing, because it would mean I was more sociable with the family. It was a doggily ignoramus assault on my property. Charged on chewy inquisition! It was VERY bad!

I stood over the pieces of my phone. The dog sat in its bed and glossed his eyes. His ears perked up and wiggled slightly with the movement. “What?” he said without flinching.

It wasn’t as if I wouldn’t be changing anything I did. I would still sit at the table bored after dinner. It was a good thing. How? It isn’t a good thing. The destruction of property resulting in a more sociable life style with my family was not a good reason to socialise.

I knelt down and cradled it in my hand. A faint hope flickered through me as I pressed the power button. In vague desperation that it may glow into life. No such luck.

A very bad dog. Depriving me of my only social life! Where was the goodness in that? I was a teenager that needed a constant link to friends and the internet. Where was the badness in that? I was the very bad teen according to the parents because I did nothing aside from play on my phone. My life is a hyperbole according to them.

I glared at the dog. His ears twitched again. Then he bolted from the kitchen and scrambled out onto the landing before I could get a hand on his collar.

“Your own fault for leaving it there!” Per usual my fault according to the household ruler. Although per usual not mine either according to the might of my conscience. I was sure I had left it on the counter. Nevertheless a bad dog in my opinion.

“MUUUUM!” I yelled as I stood up from the floor, the remains of my phone in my hand. I resisted the temptation to sprint after the dog. He would only think it was a game.

It might teach me a lesson? It might teach me to respect my things better? It might teach me not to leave things lying around? A good thing because it taught me a lesson. A very BAD thing because I now had no phone.

“THE DOG ATE MY PHONE”