Arthur Dog Book Novels & Stories

He had already shielded himself. Feeling playful, Arthur drew a big lion on his phone and sent it. Soon, he heard someone shout in the distance, "Oh no! There’s a large animal, possibly a lion, nearby! Run!" The red dots on the device started running frantically in one direction, and Arthur chuckled. "Pathetic. Why are they scared of a lion?" He then drew an even bigger dinosaur. If Jeffrey hadn't arrived swiftly, those hunting for Arthur would have mistaken their surroundings for a zoo! Lions one moment, rhinos the next, with everything from airborne creatures to sprinting animals registering on their detectors!

He took to heart what his mother reminded them often - to always be kind to all - humans, dogs, and cats, too. He walked towards a mausoleum with steel bars as door. The gap between the bars were too small for big dogs to get in and so he decided he would stay there for a while. He could still hear dogs fighting and growling. He saw some cats and dogs running obviously afraid to get involved. “Poor Cathy and Kitty. They died right away from the bite.” Polly heard the cats said as they ran. “Benny is not going to come out of that place alive. That female dog is vicious!” the dogs shouted to the other dogs looking from the entrance.

Power will change, Revenge will change But the only thing that will not change will be . . . The Resurrection of the Thunder wolf. Next book titled : Thunder wolf ( book 2)

(Audrey's POV) Arthur's face was flushed. His usual sharp features now seemed raw, untamed. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his breaths came in heavy, uneven bursts that filled the room with a strange heat. His wolf-gold eyes locked onto mine, wild and full of something primal. It wasn’t the Arthur I knew. This was someone—something—lost in chaos. "Arthur," I called out, my voice shaky. "What’s wrong with you? Do you hear me?"

They growl at me and I notice that they’re in some sort of a strange middle state, where they’re half beast and half human. But the thing that alarms me the most is the blood on their nails and some on their teeth. “Arthur,” I say with a weak voice. “Arthur. . . .” The Rogues scatter to attack me but I’m too busy looking around for Arthur. Then I notice that Arthur on on the sand, trying to fend off the Rogues that are trying to scratch and bite him, slashing them with a single knife in hand. His blood is seeping into the sand and all he can do is cover himself while trying to fight, outnumbered and wounded. . . .

He smiles at me and starts driving his car. After few hours, we arrive, and the traffic was insane. It's almost noon when we arrive home. I'm excited to meet my sons. I look at him and ask him to take me home immediately. Arthur nods and takes my wheelchair at the trunk, and then we go inside the house. After he opens the door, our puppies happily wiggle their tails as they approach us. "They miss their moms so much." Arthur kneels and lifts the puppies and puts them in my lap. I pet them as we go inside. They are well disciplined because they dump into their pooping area, which he created, and it's a stack of newspapers.

Even the statues were colorful pieces of modern art bent at impossible angles. Then there were the rock music and the dogs. I’m not sure which was louder, the Imagine Dragons blaring over the speakers or the barking of the golden doodle alerting Arthur to my arrival. At least the dogs—three in total—each greeted me with a wagging tail and a lick on my hand. Arthur, sitting at his computer at the desk, lifted his face to me. He arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me before using a remote to silence the deafening music.

, and we heard someone yell out to us. I put the corgi down and turned to face the threat, but we didn’t know in which direction the voice originated from. We then heard the voice say, “down here.” and it came from the corgi. We turned to it, and Joan said that it couldn’t have been the dog, because “dogs don’t talk.” To everyone’s surprise, the corgi replied, “this one does.” Donatello exclaimed at the talking dog, and he corrected our pronouns and told us his name was Arthur.

A room with a secret door leading down. Arthur then crouched down so that his eyes could meet Elora’s. His hands gripped Elora’s arm gently. Besides Arthur’s feet, there were two books of different sizes and colors. Elora recognized one of them as the werewolves’ journals. “El, maybe what I said is too heavy for you to understand. But I believe you are my very smart little girl. For that, I will try to tell you all this. I hope you understand it.” “Try it, Daddy.” Elora imitated Jason’s words while they were playing, and Jacinda gave him a hard challenge.

I took a deep breath and forced my legs to start moving. Jack looked concerned. Not that I could blame him really. I’m sure I was acting more than a little jumpy for just “looking at some pictures.” As far as he knew anyway. I held the book out for him, but he just stared down at the cover in confusion. I think he was expecting more of a traditional kind of album. I pushed the book into his hands. "Arthur has a special way to hide his 'special' photos," I explained.