RE-WRITE THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH
I had four dogs when I was growing up. One was a collie named Fluffy. Another one, a Saint Bernard, was named Whiskey. Then we had Bullet, who was a German Shepherd. The last one was a chocolate Lab we called Lucky, who, it turned out, wasn't so lucky.
I had four dogs while growing up: Fluffy, a Collie, Whiskey, a St. Bernard, Bullet, a German Shepherd and Lucky, a chocolate Lab who didn't quite live up to its name.
Lucky, it turned out, took to chasing cars early in life. He'd chase them for miles across the countryside until he caught up with them. Then he'd sink his sharp teeth into a rear tire (though sometimes even the bumper) and pull the automobile to a screeching halt. Here, the driver would usually jump out and run off, but Lucky would still thrash the car back and forth to be sure of its immobility.
Yes, that little Lab acquired quite a collection of trophies. We'd mount the front half of the car on a plaque with a brass nameplate engraved with the date, make and model of the kill and hang it on the wall of his doghouse. Eventually, my father had to spend $60,000 on an addition to Lucky's trophy room.
But, alas, though lucky was a great hunter, he wasn't too bright. When my family moved to Bolton, the railroad that shot past our farm offered him his greatest challenge, and the only one he ever lost.
Current Mood: just realized you bought the wrong fabric softener
