The breeze kept me cool while I was jogging with my dog, Scruffy, in the park.
The park allowed owners’ pets to run free without being leashed so I let Scruffy run on his own.
I did not worry that he might get lost as he had a collar and only ran with me and not with strangers.
“Woof!” barked Scruffy.
I found him sniffing on a brown box placed near a bush.
He sniffed it suspiciously.
“What is it, Scruffy?” I said, as I stopped jogging.
Thoughts of drugs or jewellery in the box flooded my mind.
Suppose a bad person had left the box filled with drugs there while he bought more drugs to peddle his wares?
What if it was a burglar instead?
He may have left 3-carat diamonds in it and hid the box in his hiding place…
Curiously, I opened the box.
I looked at it in horror.
In it was heroin, the drugs that are harmful to people who eat or drink it.
I had learnt all about it in my Health Education lesson last week.
Looking at the packets of orange-brown powder, I decided to call the police.
Scruffy was just about to take a bite on the packet of heroin I was holding…
No, Scruffy, no!
I said as I hit his moist nose.
I kept all the packets in the box immediately before Scruffy could have a bite.
I was about to hand the brown box over to the police station when I saw a dark shadow loom over me.
I looked behind.
There stood a tall, burly man, with a tattoo inked on his left arm.
Was he the drug peddler?
Was he a…
My thoughts were interrupted by the burly man’s heavy breath, with a seething glare in his eyes.
“Give me back the box,” he said, sticking his huge right palm in front of me.
“I’m sorry, mister, but I would not give it to you, even if you gave me a million dollars!” I said instinctively.
My hand covered my mouth.
I regretted making that bold statement in front of him.
“Do you think I would be so gullible to just walk away and go off empty-handed? I repeat, give me back the box,” the man said with anger in his voice. He began to clench his fist, about to punch me…
Scruffy growled and pounced on the man.
Before the man could do anything, Scruffy bit him on his tattooed arm.
Never had I seen a sweet dog like Scruffy turn into a fierce dog.
In fact, its barks were louder and fiercer than before!
Scruffy bit the man harder and the man cried out in pain.
What a coward!
I had expected him to punch Scruffy back in revenge but he cried instead.
Soon, he was bawling like an infant.
Maybe he was ready to show the white flag and give up since he could not fight anymore.
“Down, Scruffy!” I said firmly.
Scruffy then jumped off the man, who was lying on the ground, sprawled.
A few passers-by had seen the entire drama in the park and one of them had called the police.
The police arrived in a few minutes and handcuffed the man.
A policewoman came over to me and I gave her the brown box.
She thanked me and asked for my particulars, as I would be rewarded the “Junior-Vigilant” award.
I then gave her my particulars.
“I did help, but it’s all thanks to my pet dog, Scruffy,” I said, petting him.
The policewoman laughed and said that she had known all about the commotion.
As a reward, she gave Scruffy a guard dog outfit and also gave him a badge to put on.
On the words of the badge it said, “GUARD DOG”.
She then explained that she let Scruffy be a guard dog as Scruffy helped me.
I smiled at her.
With a spring in my step, I left the park, carrying the dog outfit and badge.
I walked home with Scruffy, happily enjoying the gentle breeze.
At home, I gave Scruffy a handful of his favourite treats- chewy bones!
My parents looked at me, astonished to see me feeding Scruffy the treats.
“Has Scruffy done a good deed?” my mother asked.
“Yes, he has,” I answered, giving Scruffy a belly rub.
I then told my parents about the incident.
They smiled and beamed with pride.
I took out the guard dog outfit together with the badge out of my cupboard and let Scruffy wear it.
Certainly, I will let Scruffy tightly.
Who would ever think that Scruffy was just an ordinary dog?
By MARY LÊ