The situation looked dark indeed for you as the family dog Buster took you by the leg to his dog bed and having seen what Buster did to toys, you could only imagine what horrible fate awaited. Buster shook his head, and you went flying onto the partially ripped and drool-stained dog bed, and though it should have been a soft landing, it only aggravated your leg. You looked and saw the bleeding teeth marks that Buster had left (fortunately, Buster was a small dog); the leg looked like it would heal with time but being carried by it had nearly separated you from the limb. “Not that it matters,” you miserably thought, knowing that soon chunks of you around the room and only then would your mother realize her horrible mistake, and with your injured leg, there was no way to run. As you watched Buster prepare to pounce, you thought that this would be the last thing you ever saw before being ripped to pieces.
You closed your eyes and waited for the momentary feeling of teeth tearing into flesh, but it never came. You opened your eyes and saw that Buster was being held by his collar by your five-year-old niece Cassie. “Bad doggy, Buster,” Cassie shouted. Cassie struggled a little but managed to drag Buster out of the room and into the kitchen, and it wasn’t long before you heard the backdoor being slammed, “bad doggy!” The next sound you heard was rapid footsteps, and soon you saw Cassie kneeling before you. “Poor dolly,” Cassie said.
“Dolly?” You repeated.
“Did mean old Buster hurt you?” Cassie asked. Cassie was your older sister’s daughter who stayed with your mother during the day while your sister was at work; she was a sweet girl who had a bright outlook and always wanted to play. Cassie genteelly picked you up and wrapped her hand around your waist, “don’t worry, dolly, I know what to do,” Cassie assured her shrunken aunt. Cassie took off through the house with you in her hand and her fiery red hair whipping behind her. Cassie reached the house's guest room, which also served as a second bedroom to her since she was here so often. Cassie ran inside and laid you on the bed, “you wait here,” Cassie told you as she went to her toy box, “Dr. Cassie will be right with you.”
While Cassie dug through her toy box, you looked around and were amazed at how different everything seemed; last night, you couldn’t lie on Cassie’s bed without your feet sticking out now it would probably take you half an hour to walk across the thing, Cassie’s stuffed animals now seemed a lot like parade balloons, and the dollhouse looked like a mansion. “Found it,” Cassie happily declared as she returned to the bed with a plastic bag with a medical cross on it, “Dr. Cassie is going to make you all better, dolly,” your niece happily announced. Cassie pulled a toy stethoscope out of the bag and put it to her ears to begin her examination, “your heart seems fine, dolly,” Cassie told you.
“Might want to start with the bleeding leg Cassie,” you wanted to say.
Cassie pulled out a real band-aide next to a pink child size with Barbie printed on it and wrapped it around your leg at your size; it was essentially a cast, “there,” Cassie declared, “all better.” Cassie looked at her hand and saw the tiny dots of blood, “I’m gonna go wash my hands, and then we can play.”
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