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Jonathan L. Miller wrote his first short story at the age of 4 (or so his mother tells him). And now, 38 years later, here is his first professional sale. Jonathan lives in a small city outside of Seattle with his lovely wife, also a writer.

I am sitting in a chair. The Man has put me here. He rubbed my head and I thumped my tail.
I look next to me and see another man. He is also in a chair. The Man is talking to him, but he does not say my name, so what he says must not be important.
Now he is putting something on my head. It is like a bowl. The other man is talking now too, but he doesn't say my name either. He sounds angry, though. But The Man isn't listening to him, so neither do I. He has a bowl on his head too, and he smells scared.
Then something happens and I feel all confused. I feel strange, like I am sleeping, but I am not sleeping.
Then I am back on the chair, but things do not feel right. The Man removes the bowl from my head and I cannot stay on the chair, so I fall down. Then I hear barking, and see that there is a dog in the other chair! I cannot smell him at all; why can't I smell him?
The Man leans down and helps me up. He picks me up by my front paws. My front paws feel funny. He picks me way up so I am standing on my hind legs. He is talking to me, saying my name, but I cannot understand him. He sounds happy, though, so I try to wag my tail. I cannot.
The other dog begins to howl. I wish he would stop.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, August 14th, 2014
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