Kelpie Pup }|{

Kelpie Pup, ch 2 }|{

A skinny, blonde boy jumped out of the passenger seat and grinned at me, showing off his millions of freckles all over his tanned cheeks. A sudden feeling came across me, and I started to shiver with excitement, although I hadn't ever felt this feeling before. It was hard to explain, a sort of plainness, and calmness. Another man stepped out of the truck and I quickly returned to earth, forgetting my thoughts. I recognized him from the local newspaper I had been reading earlier. The younger boy, I guessed was about 14, just a year older than me stopped to look at me, probably seeing me looking at him.

"Hey! Emma, haven't seen you in ages!" The older man beamed, slightly exaggerating the words you and Ages. I tried to figure who this friendly man was. As I was about to say hello and ask who he was, grandpa interrupted with a large grin on his face. I guessed he had been standing there the whole time. The puppy was sitting at his foot, trying to nibble his shoelaces. The other man laughed and linked hands with grandpa, as old friends would. I exchanged puzzled looks with the boy next to me.

After grandpa had invited us all in for a cup of tea, and the man had explained to us, what I thought was a biography of his life, who he was, we all settled down to the lounge to watch the football. The older mans name was Greg, and the younger, Linkin, who was still staring at me every time I turned my face.

While Greg and Grandpa were watching the Sunday afternoon football, I showed linkin what was left of my room. He seemed thrilled by my presence, as I was his. After showing him my posters, guitars and music, I sat down on my bed, as he sat down on a chair next to my bedside table.

"So, How do I know you," I hope It didn't sound too harsh. He didn't seem at all annoyed by the comment.

"A Friend, of a friend," he looked up with his light blue eyes, "Well, actually, my father knew your father, and you're pop as well."

"And, so you're Greg's son?" I asked boldly, not thinking of what I said. I looked up, hoping he wasn't staring at me in horror. To my surprise he was amused. I shrugged.

"Nah, I was adopted at the age of 4. My parents died in a car accident." He stopped. My face seemed to fall to the ground. What was I doing?

"Oh, sorry," I stuttered, "I didn't realize...." He interrupted me.

"Don't worry; I get it all the time. It doesn't seem to bother me like it should." Immediately, I knew we would be great friends. We talked for what seemed like ages about where he lived, animals, what my favorite hobbies were, what instruments I played, and basically anything that popped up. By the time the football finished, we had become very good friends. I had completely forgotten about my trip to the creek earlier. The birds could wait couldn't they?

Greg and Linkin, had a house just down the road from us, but was much bigger. It was their holiday house, away from the big city. Greg was a real-estate agent, you could tell from the way he pointed out particular houses on the way to their house. He would often comment about their fences and gardens. I wondered what It was like to have a full time job. I only worked occasionally at the Fosters Farm with the animals and housework.

Fifteen minutes later, we got there. Greg pulled up the driveway into a large, new house. I guessed they were very rich. Greg seemed happy to be home.

He unlocked the door and we all fell in. The house smelled of bareness and emptiness. Greg put his bags down on the living room floor. I looked around and studied the walls and the thick layer of bushes surrounding the house. The windows were large and untouched, taking up most of the space. Green was all to be seen, with shadows larger than the house itself. I walked over to where a large painting was and traced my eyes over the texture of black and white. It was quite a modern house. It was also very large. The space was incredible; I could play football with ten other people in here and not break a thing. Away in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that everybody had moved into the next room. I heard Linkin call after me and quickly walked into the next room.

"Where were you?" He joked after I had finally caught up to the small party. Greg was in the middle of a story about where the tiles in the bathroom came from. Linkin seemed disconnected, like he was in hurry to do something important. I studied his face with curiosity. He looked much older than he actually was. I quickly turned my face to pretend to look out the window when I saw him stare anxiously back at me. I saw a small smile at the corner of his happy face.

Grandpa and I had stayed there until well over 8:00, as Linkin and I had to finish a game of touch football in his oversized backyard, which I had won another fifteen dollars from. I had also versed him in a game of pool and amazingly won ten dollars, more than I would earn in a month. While Linkin and I played, Grandpa and Greg had sat by the fire place drinking coke, laughing about the 'good ole days'.

Of course, we had completely forgotten about the dog that day. When we got back we found him snuggled up under one of the pillows on the lounge. It looked like he had been sleeping a long time. Gently I woke him up by nudging the side of this head, then jumping back as he bounced up and licked my face.

That night, I slept well. It had been fun with Linkin. He and his dad were thinking of staying in bungalow, since Greg had been given a choice to work in the little town real- estate agency. I still hadn't even given one thought about the puppy downstairs. I wondered about whether he actually belonged to someone. The thought made me angry, having to think about giving up my gorgeous puppy. I suddenly felt a large heavy thing crawl jump up onto my bed. Slowly waddling towards me, I realized the weight was actually the puppy, coming up to sit beside my head on the pillow. Cuddling his warm, delicate body, I realized what I wanted to call him, Samson. There were many reasons why I wanted to call him this, but one stood out the most, his strength. He was only still a puppy, but he was one of the strongest, and most handsome, dogs I had ever come across. Apart from the glistening sapphire eyes, Samson had shaggy russet fur. I ran my hands across my new dog's fur and closed my eyes, listening to his faint panting. I soon fell asleep.

The next morning was unsurprisingly cold, as I noticed frost piling up on my window sill. It had been raining, although I hadn't thought it had rained during the night. I loved the rain, the frozen water slowly hitting my face, the smell of the air, the cleanliness I felt after the rain. Rain was stunning and beautiful to me. I jumped out of bed, thinking about yesterday. I wondered whether I would see Linkin today. I looked around my room searching for the tiny bundle of fluff. Samson, was no where to be seen.