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The Jumpy Dog

By Rita
“Are you ready?” I asked. My sister nodded.

“Okay then,” I continued, “One, two, three, RUN.”

We were standing just before the fence and bushes that belonged to the back yard of the last house on the block. At my words we dashed as fast as we could to the corner of the block.

We weren’t running a race to see who was fastest. No, we were running for our lives. If that dog caught us we were dead, for sure.

picket fence



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