My Personal Narrative

I finally let it take control over what I should do. After a little while, the thought slipped my mind, only to return later. I felt much more relaxed. We continued our game in peace. After playing for about fifteen minutes, and five games, she then had to go home.

“Catherine, come down here!” My mom called.

“Coming!” I yelled back, nervously.

After finally getting downstairs. I went into the kitchen. My mom was waiting with my Nana.

“Do you want to go to the store with Nana and I?” She asked.

“Sure. Why are we going?”

“Your father wants to make a good dinner, but he doesn’t have the ingredients.” She said.

Minutes later, we were in the car and on our way to the store. We were going to split up, my mom going to the department store, and Nana and me to the grocery store.

“I’ll come into the grocery store when I am done, and just start looking for you guys.” She said. She handed the grocery list to my grandmother, and off we went. There wasn’t much on the list, and it went by pretty fast. My mom met up with us about ten minutes in, and then we got a phone call that would change our mellow day forever. My mom answered it, and her face turned pale after about fifteen seconds. I could tell something was wrong. I got a tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what had happened, and that it was my entire fault.

We paid for all of our stuff, and then we raced home as fast as the law would allow and as fast as our minivan would go.

When we got home, I heard my dad calling Libby’s name. He was out in the backyard, calling in the woods. She could be anywhere, I thought to myself. I started to cry right after he called 11 times. Not the balling your eyes out kind of cry, but the silent type. The type you use at a funeral. I thought that I would never see her again. As we started to look, I remembered Emily’s words. Where’s Libby?

Why isn’t she here? The words echoed in my head. I decided that I would call her to help look. A few minutes later, she came over, and didn’t even knock. She just walked right in and asked to start looking. My little brothers helped look for the first fifteen minutes, and then my Nana took them inside and kept them occupied. I could see that they were really sad. We looked for hours on end.

Watching for anything that might lead us to where she might be. It had snowed a lot lately, and the ground was covered in three inches of snow. It helped us at first, becausethere were tracks, but then my mom told us that there were dozens of dogs in our neighborhood, and the tracks could belong to any one of them. We looked up and down our streets, and even went down to the school. I yelled her name, and Emily used her dog whistle, but nothing worked. There were acres of woods in our neighborhood, and she could have been hit by a speeding car. I tried to push those thoughts out of my head. I was so angry with myself at this point; I wanted to scream at myself. Then, after four and a half excruciating hours, my mom called the local pound. We all hoped that she had been rescued and not hurt bad, but we could only hope for the best.

I tried to listen onto her conversation, but it was hard.

“Hi, yes, my name is Andrea Peterson, I live at 8013 Garlot Drive, and our dog has gotten lost…Yes…A chocolate lab retriever…She is micro chipped…Yes…MmHmmm…About a year and a half old…Very hyper…Okay…Thank you.” And then she hung up.

“Well?” I asked.

“They had many dogs with our description come in, but they haven’t checked any for microchips. They said that they would call us back.” She replied.

Twenty five minutes later we were eating dinner as a family. All of our voices were hoarse from calling to Libby so much. We had chili, but we all ate halfheartedly and picked at our food.

Right before dinner was over, the phone rang.