(Very) old works

Everybody has to start somewhere.

I was looking through my old notebooks and came across this gem.  My mum had set me a few prompts and I'd come up with various stories, heavily influenced by Enid Blyton.  Some of them didn't make a lot of sense at all.  Some of them hadn't been finished.  But this one appeared to feature original characters and tell a fairly complete story.

I estimate I was about six when I wrote this.  I had a few problems telling the difference between "T" and "J" and I thought the words "has" and "as" were interchangable. 

Not to mention the fact the story was meant to be about a clever boy and a garden.  I'm not entirely sure how clever Jack is.  And the garden doesn't get mentioned beyond the first line.

Translation: "Jack went into his garden.  He had no parents, no family, no cat, nor dog.  Nothing belonged to him, not even a toy."  (Depressing stuff!)

"One day, big eyes looked at him out of a St Bernard.  He patted it.  It licked him, so it was his dog."  (Of course.  A dog automatically becomes yours if it licks you.  Why not?)

"Guess what he named it?

He named it Flower.  And thought: 'What a funny name,' he thought.

One day he was in a house."  (His own house?  A random house?)

"His alarm clock rang."  (He does, apparently, have some possessions then?)

"His dog woke.  Jumped on the bed.  Muddy paws.  Licked the boy with the slobbers."

I choose to interpret this as a sweet tale of a lonely boy who finds (steals?) a St Bernard and calls it Flower.  Like I said: we all have to start somewhere!