A rewrite for punctuation corrections for GTTP homework
|Revision: Dogs Home Alone
I was listening to my portable CD player as I stuck stamps on several envelopes. I’d opened the jar of peanut butter to make myself a sandwich, when I decided the bills needed to be mailed. I set the player and headset, along with the peanut butter on the table, grabbed the bills and headed out to the mailbox.
I should have put them up on the counter, but I didn’t. I looked at my fox terriers. They were happily holding each other by a back leg and spinning each other around the floor. Surely I could run out to the mailbox without them destroying anything. Couldn’t I?
I headed for the door, mail in hand. They’d crashed into the other side of the door before I’d even shut the screen dog. I ran out, shoved the mail into the box and had already turned to head back inside, when my neighbor called to me.
“Hi, how are you?” she asked.
“Fine.” I shot a glance at the house, sighed and asked, “What about you all?”
“Well…” she began, and I knew I’d made a tactical error, as she continued, “I’ve been all right. But Sam hasn’t been feeling very well. He claims it’s just a pulled muscle, but I’m afraid it’s arthritis.”
I thrust a hand up. “I’m sorry,” I lied, “but I left some soup on the stove.” I headed back to the house, calling, “I hope Sam feels better soon.” over my shoulder. I pushed the door open, expecting to find the dogs waiting for me.
But they weren’t. I called to them. Still nothing. Then I noticed the headset to the CD player was gone.
“Robbie…” I found the headset, or at least, what was left of it, lying on the dining room carpet. “Robert James!” I yelled.
A furry little face peered around a corner, a half-chewed jar lid in his mouth.
“Agatha Lynne!” I screamed, as I reached the living room and saw her with the peanut butter. She paused licking just long enough to give me an innocent stare over the edge of the jar, before she continued.