Two Stories of My Faithful Friends In Ebook

By Nunzia Castaldo

This ebook includes Two Stories Published on Smashwords.com:
Octavia Life As A Boxer
Aphrodite Story Of The White Cat
This book is a work of fiction just because cats and dogs don't write stories.
I happened to read that the Boxer dog breed is a dog not a dog. I didn't fully understand this statement until chance introduced us to Octavia.
In the middle time of my existence, life intersected with that of Aphrodite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nunzia Castaldo
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005845605

Nunzia Castaldo

Sono nata a Bologna in Italia. Mi sono laureata in Pedagogia con indirizzo psicologico, sono stata docente per molti anni. Amo leggere e scrivere di poesia e racconti, amo fotografare dettagli di realtà e rielaborarli al computer. Amo scrivere per Smashwords, molti miei testi sono passati negli anni attraverso il suo catalogo che aggiorno. Grazie Smashwords.

Book preview

Two Stories of My Faithful Friends In Ebook

By Nunzia Castaldo

SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY

Nunzia Castaldo on Smashwords

Copyright © 2021 by Nunzia Castaldo

Cover design Nunzia Castaldo

This ebook includes Two Stories Published on Smashwords.com:

Octavia Life As A Boxer

Aphrodite Story Of The White Cat

This book is a work of fiction just because cats and dogs don't write stories.

***

Octavia Life As A Boxer

PRESENTATION

I happened to read that the Boxer dog breed is a dog not a dog. I didn't fully understand this statement until chance introduced us to Octavia. The Boxer is an affectionate dog even if apparently he does not show it that much, while he shows his sweetness and jealousy for the members of his human and animal family which is expressed in the courageous and fearless ability to defend those he loves.

Premise

You get up in the morning as usual, but your day changes in a moment. Octavia does not raise herself, does not move a lip, with her tail raised, weakly, she tells you that she is there, she does not know what happened to her, but she is there. Last night you left her alone, after the croquette the prize is the pat on the round head like a bowl and this morning you find it like that.

Fear, worry, black thoughts stir the mind, reminding you that you are not omnipotent and perhaps you are not even that good owner you think, because you have allowed your dog, to whom you have given love and care, to get sick. Go through your health book and call the vet. You take the thirty-pound bundle, load it in the car and go. Now you are suspended between maybe and why.

Here, if you want a dog, document yourself scrupulously, as if you should know how to be a parent, undertake the profession of veterinarian, dietician, psychologist. Then put everything aside and start the adventure that will change your life. Yes I really said: It will change your life. It happened to me. He.

Octavia, come on, let's go for a walk I tell her. She gets off her settee dragging the blanket behind her, stretches, stretches her front legs and lifts her hind legs, then twirls, tail like a clapper, hits doorposts and doorposts. Sit down, I'll put the harness on you I command her. She does another pirouette, shakes her head, her ears fly, stands up on her hind legs, puts her forelegs on my shoulders and her muzzle on my face. It smells me. Down, down I tell her. She sits composed. I bend down to the ground with the harness in place, lift one leg and step inside, then lift the other and perform the same maneuver, but she has moved and everything has to be redone. Now I have some of his drool in my hair and I'm sweating.

Meanwhile, she sniffs: from the dress, to the shoes, to the bag, to find out if we will go to the beach or do the shopping. The signs of his passage remain on me. I don't have time to change, I clean up quickly and go out hot and full of halos on my clothes. 'Because I didn't get a small dog,' I say. She.

Anyone who has experienced having a dog has certainly lived a relationship that included forms of communication very similar to dialogue. How many times have we heard it said: He just lacks the word. I too have wondered: What would my faithful friend say if he could tell about his life experiences? Therefore it is Octavia who tells.

******

The day I got home. While he drove the car, slowly, like someone with exceptional transport, he would give me a caress from time to time; she held me on her legs holding me to her hips. I could only hear the sound of the engine. I was very frightened, perhaps also because I felt a kind of disturbance in their silence, now I can say that it is similar to mine, when I don't know whether to