This is mostly a true story.
A few corrections are, however, required:
A) My dog's name is Takita [ta-KEE-ta].
B) He was bleeding outside his chin. There was no internal bleeding.
C) I was not hired. I was told. No payment was involved.
D) He was not thrown into an abyss, made into an abyss or anything of the like. He was, however, abused.
E) He has a scar on his stomach, not a bruise. He got frostbitten at the veterinarian's office.
Translation (for those who still cannot read my gibberish):
Last Thursday my dog "Taceta" got hit by a car when I let him outside. I was screaming like crazy. He was bleeding inside of his chin, and some on his legs. Later that day I was hired to give him a lot of attention. He is five now. But I will never forget when I saw him get hit. I always thought he went through enough since he was abused. And he has a bruise on his stomach from when he went to the vet to get neutered. [Please read with high increase of emotion.] But that dog is strong. He will never give up, even if he is a Chihuahua. I should probably stop writing before I start crying or something.
This has to be one of my favorite stories to read from my journal. The phrase "I was screming like curasy" is now common vernacular amidst my friends. You are welcome to pass it on. I also enjoy rehearsing "I shud probly stop riting befor I strt crying or sumthing" just because it's funny. "My dag Taceta" is a good one, too.
