Spirit of the Underdog

As the spade cut into the mossy ground, Mr. Jeffries tossed it
aside and began pacing along the back alleyway of the candy
store. “My gun,” he thought, “those pit bulls must be put down!”
A look of both grief and disgust came over his face as he
glanced at George’s limp body. “If the children had just
warned me
, this wouldn’t have happened!” He entered the
back shed, laid a hand on his long aluminum gun case, and
closed his eyes as tears streaked down his cheeks.

His mind drifted back 9 years ago to the day he first brought
George home from the pet store. George was at his best
outdoors. He had made friends with so many of the children
that Mr. Jeffries soon lost track of all of the kids’ names. Many
of them had grown up with George and had often stopped by to
see him.

As he looked down at the fallen hero, a whimpering noise was
heard. When George’s eyes opened and he looked towards
him, Mr. Jeffries dropped his shotgun and ran over to his side.

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