| General Fiction posted May 16, 2021 |
  |
Short Story
Dog Days
by zanya
Before he goes to work, Jack opens the back door and I race to the bottom of the garden. His daughter, Marta, is slamming the front door shut by the time I have sniffed all the fresh morning smells. Then I wander about, alone, for the rest of the day.
The big black dog on the other side of the wall sometimes pushes his nose through the hole at the bottom. We are good doggie neighbours. He barks annoyingly at times, though, as he scampers up and down.
When I was a puppy I used to chase butterflies, but now I'm far too long in the tooth for that. So mostly I just snooze on the patio or chase the odd crow that comes to peck at the bird feeder. Occasionally, in the autumn, a fox jumps over the wall and scarpers around between the trees looking for windfall apples. I don't like the look of that greedy fox. I skulk away and lie closer to the back door so I can catch sight of him as he leaves.
When I hear sounds from the street I go to the garden gate and look through the iron bars. Cars come and go. Small children love to stare at me and sometimes reach in and pull my long ears. I squirm sometimes because it hurts and the big human gets angry.
One day my humans stayed home all day. They got up, had coffee and when I came back from my early morning sniffing session Jack was upstairs talking loudly on the phone. Marta was staring at her computer screen in the dining room and typing furiously.
Nobody seemed to notice me or else they shushed me away as they rearranged the house furniture. It was unnerving. I felt a little frisson of fear. Were they forgetting about me? Was I a nuisance?
Then something even stranger happened. Every morning, after my sniffing, Marta grabbed my lead from the brush cupboard and we rushed out the hall door and walked briskly to the local park. Odd! An early walk in the park. Then I remembered it would be too early to meet that pretty little bichon frise that I met most evenings when we took our evening stroll. We wouldn't get to sniff each others' butts or rub muzzles. Maybe this morning walk was just for today. But no.
Something had changed. Marta covered her face with a mask. Was I going to be muzzled too? She seemed edgy. People didn't stop to chat or laugh. The world seemed like it was about to do a barrel roll.
I wasn't sure what to do at home with two humans all day. Maybe making myself scarce would be best. I skulked outside and lay down in the kennel. Next, I heard Jack calling my name urgently, 'Charlie, Charlie..' He began to whistle. I pretended not to hear. I saw his eyes peering into the darkness of the kennel. The game was up. He had my lead. Another walk? What was going on? Jack walked so fast around the village, I could barely keep up. Our village was always full of children, dogs, bicycles. I even got a few pats on the head. Not now. Shops closed. Schools closed. Is the world ending?
I got used to the new world order. Even rubbed noses with some new doggie girl friends.
After a while, it felt like I was getting ready for the Olympics. Don't know if they have dog walking Olympics. I really got fed up with it. I tried to hide in the bushes or under the chestnut tree and pretended to be snoring so as to avoid going on yet another walk. But when you have a human standing over you with a lead what can you do? Off we trotted, week in week out, with Marta in the morning and Jack in the evening. I was beginning to feel very fit and toned. No problem finding new girl doggies now. I couldn't wait to set off twice a day. Such fun.
Until one day Marta arrived home with a new kennel, a small kennel. I was scared. Maybe they thought with my new honed muscles and canine pecs I would fit into a smaller space.
Then I heard a yelp coming from the back seat of the car. Marta put her hand into the tiny kennel and took out a..what shall I call it..? A tiny white, furry canine. My doggie heart began to race. They don't like me anymore was my first reaction. At ten, I'm too old and slow for their non-stop walks.
I slunk away and seeing the garage door ajar, I hid there among the old broken chairs and worn- out boots. I could hear all the fun and frolic with the new puppy. I began to hate this little doggie chump. Fancy this little ball of white fur usurping yours truly. No, it was not going to happen.
I made a plan. I would jump over the wall the next morning when they were busy on their machines and disappear forever. Just then Jack opened the garage door, gathered me up in his strong arms, muttering, 'Charlie, old boy, what's up?' Silly human, he must know what's up. How would he feel if I went for my morning walk with some new neighbour on the block?
Jack patted my head and stroked my ears. Marta came rushing to the back door with one of my special treats. My doggie heart slowed down to its usual rhythm.
'Charlie, Charlie,' Marta said, 'That little ball of white fur is for our elderly neighbour, Mr Watts, who has to cocoon during the pandemic. Come with me and we'll drop him off at Mr Watts.'
I couldn't wait to jump in the car and go on this mission. I even licked Marta's hand, not once but twice.
Old Mr Watts was sitting on his porch with a tiny kennel by his side. His eyes lit up above his mask.
My eyes lit up too when I saw Mr Watts cradle that tiny bundle of white fur in his wrinkled hands. This little four-legged upstart was finally gone.
Marta turned the car around and soon we were back home. Jumping out of the car, I raced to the bottom of the garden and did a few laps beneath the apple trees.
Life was sweet again. Or was it?
Better keep my pecs well-honed or who knows what might happen.
Woof! Woof!
Short story writing contest entry
Before he goes to work, Jack opens the back door and I race to the bottom of the garden. His daughter, Marta, is slamming the front door shut by the time I have sniffed all the fresh morning smells. Then I wander about, alone, for the rest of the day.
The big black dog on the other side of the wall sometimes pushes his nose through the hole at the bottom. We are good doggie neighbours. He barks annoyingly at times, though, as he scampers up and down.
When I was a puppy I used to chase butterflies, but now I'm far too long in the tooth for that. So mostly I just snooze on the patio or chase the odd crow that comes to peck at the bird feeder. Occasionally, in the autumn, a fox jumps over the wall and scarpers around between the trees looking for windfall apples. I don't like the look of that greedy fox. I skulk away and lie closer to the back door so I can catch sight of him as he leaves.
When I hear sounds from the street I go to the garden gate and look through the iron bars. Cars come and go. Small children love to stare at me and sometimes reach in and pull my long ears. I squirm sometimes because it hurts and the big human gets angry.
One day my humans stayed home all day. They got up, had coffee and when I came back from my early morning sniffing session Jack was upstairs talking loudly on the phone. Marta was staring at her computer screen in the dining room and typing furiously.
Nobody seemed to notice me or else they shushed me away as they rearranged the house furniture. It was unnerving. I felt a little frisson of fear. Were they forgetting about me? Was I a nuisance?
Then something even stranger happened. Every morning, after my sniffing, Marta grabbed my lead from the brush cupboard and we rushed out the hall door and walked briskly to the local park. Odd! An early walk in the park. Then I remembered it would be too early to meet that pretty little bichon frise that I met most evenings when we took our evening stroll. We wouldn't get to sniff each others' butts or rub muzzles. Maybe this morning walk was just for today. But no.
Something had changed. Marta covered her face with a mask. Was I going to be muzzled too? She seemed edgy. People didn't stop to chat or laugh. The world seemed like it was about to do a barrel roll.
I wasn't sure what to do at home with two humans all day. Maybe making myself scarce would be best. I skulked outside and lay down in the kennel. Next, I heard Jack calling my name urgently, 'Charlie, Charlie..' He began to whistle. I pretended not to hear. I saw his eyes peering into the darkness of the kennel. The game was up. He had my lead. Another walk? What was going on? Jack walked so fast around the village, I could barely keep up. Our village was always full of children, dogs, bicycles. I even got a few pats on the head. Not now. Shops closed. Schools closed. Is the world ending?
I got used to the new world order. Even rubbed noses with some new doggie girl friends.
After a while, it felt like I was getting ready for the Olympics. Don't know if they have dog walking Olympics. I really got fed up with it. I tried to hide in the bushes or under the chestnut tree and pretended to be snoring so as to avoid going on yet another walk. But when you have a human standing over you with a lead what can you do? Off we trotted, week in week out, with Marta in the morning and Jack in the evening. I was beginning to feel very fit and toned. No problem finding new girl doggies now. I couldn't wait to set off twice a day. Such fun.
Until one day Marta arrived home with a new kennel, a small kennel. I was scared. Maybe they thought with my new honed muscles and canine pecs I would fit into a smaller space.
Then I heard a yelp coming from the back seat of the car. Marta put her hand into the tiny kennel and took out a..what shall I call it..? A tiny white, furry canine. My doggie heart began to race. They don't like me anymore was my first reaction. At ten, I'm too old and slow for their non-stop walks.
I slunk away and seeing the garage door ajar, I hid there among the old broken chairs and worn- out boots. I could hear all the fun and frolic with the new puppy. I began to hate this little doggie chump. Fancy this little ball of white fur usurping yours truly. No, it was not going to happen.
I made a plan. I would jump over the wall the next morning when they were busy on their machines and disappear forever. Just then Jack opened the garage door, gathered me up in his strong arms, muttering, 'Charlie, old boy, what's up?' Silly human, he must know what's up. How would he feel if I went for my morning walk with some new neighbour on the block?
Jack patted my head and stroked my ears. Marta came rushing to the back door with one of my special treats. My doggie heart slowed down to its usual rhythm.
'Charlie, Charlie,' Marta said, 'That little ball of white fur is for our elderly neighbour, Mr Watts, who has to cocoon during the pandemic. Come with me and we'll drop him off at Mr Watts.'
I couldn't wait to jump in the car and go on this mission. I even licked Marta's hand, not once but twice.
Old Mr Watts was sitting on his porch with a tiny kennel by his side. His eyes lit up above his mask.
My eyes lit up too when I saw Mr Watts cradle that tiny bundle of white fur in his wrinkled hands. This little four-legged upstart was finally gone.
Marta turned the car around and soon we were back home. Jumping out of the car, I raced to the bottom of the garden and did a few laps beneath the apple trees.
Life was sweet again. Or was it?
Better keep my pecs well-honed or who knows what might happen.
Woof! Woof!
The big black dog on the other side of the wall sometimes pushes his nose through the hole at the bottom. We are good doggie neighbours. He barks annoyingly at times, though, as he scampers up and down.
When I was a puppy I used to chase butterflies, but now I'm far too long in the tooth for that. So mostly I just snooze on the patio or chase the odd crow that comes to peck at the bird feeder. Occasionally, in the autumn, a fox jumps over the wall and scarpers around between the trees looking for windfall apples. I don't like the look of that greedy fox. I skulk away and lie closer to the back door so I can catch sight of him as he leaves.
When I hear sounds from the street I go to the garden gate and look through the iron bars. Cars come and go. Small children love to stare at me and sometimes reach in and pull my long ears. I squirm sometimes because it hurts and the big human gets angry.
One day my humans stayed home all day. They got up, had coffee and when I came back from my early morning sniffing session Jack was upstairs talking loudly on the phone. Marta was staring at her computer screen in the dining room and typing furiously.
Nobody seemed to notice me or else they shushed me away as they rearranged the house furniture. It was unnerving. I felt a little frisson of fear. Were they forgetting about me? Was I a nuisance?
Then something even stranger happened. Every morning, after my sniffing, Marta grabbed my lead from the brush cupboard and we rushed out the hall door and walked briskly to the local park. Odd! An early walk in the park. Then I remembered it would be too early to meet that pretty little bichon frise that I met most evenings when we took our evening stroll. We wouldn't get to sniff each others' butts or rub muzzles. Maybe this morning walk was just for today. But no.
Something had changed. Marta covered her face with a mask. Was I going to be muzzled too? She seemed edgy. People didn't stop to chat or laugh. The world seemed like it was about to do a barrel roll.
I wasn't sure what to do at home with two humans all day. Maybe making myself scarce would be best. I skulked outside and lay down in the kennel. Next, I heard Jack calling my name urgently, 'Charlie, Charlie..' He began to whistle. I pretended not to hear. I saw his eyes peering into the darkness of the kennel. The game was up. He had my lead. Another walk? What was going on? Jack walked so fast around the village, I could barely keep up. Our village was always full of children, dogs, bicycles. I even got a few pats on the head. Not now. Shops closed. Schools closed. Is the world ending?
I got used to the new world order. Even rubbed noses with some new doggie girl friends.
After a while, it felt like I was getting ready for the Olympics. Don't know if they have dog walking Olympics. I really got fed up with it. I tried to hide in the bushes or under the chestnut tree and pretended to be snoring so as to avoid going on yet another walk. But when you have a human standing over you with a lead what can you do? Off we trotted, week in week out, with Marta in the morning and Jack in the evening. I was beginning to feel very fit and toned. No problem finding new girl doggies now. I couldn't wait to set off twice a day. Such fun.
Until one day Marta arrived home with a new kennel, a small kennel. I was scared. Maybe they thought with my new honed muscles and canine pecs I would fit into a smaller space.
Then I heard a yelp coming from the back seat of the car. Marta put her hand into the tiny kennel and took out a..what shall I call it..? A tiny white, furry canine. My doggie heart began to race. They don't like me anymore was my first reaction. At ten, I'm too old and slow for their non-stop walks.
I slunk away and seeing the garage door ajar, I hid there among the old broken chairs and worn- out boots. I could hear all the fun and frolic with the new puppy. I began to hate this little doggie chump. Fancy this little ball of white fur usurping yours truly. No, it was not going to happen.
I made a plan. I would jump over the wall the next morning when they were busy on their machines and disappear forever. Just then Jack opened the garage door, gathered me up in his strong arms, muttering, 'Charlie, old boy, what's up?' Silly human, he must know what's up. How would he feel if I went for my morning walk with some new neighbour on the block?
Jack patted my head and stroked my ears. Marta came rushing to the back door with one of my special treats. My doggie heart slowed down to its usual rhythm.
'Charlie, Charlie,' Marta said, 'That little ball of white fur is for our elderly neighbour, Mr Watts, who has to cocoon during the pandemic. Come with me and we'll drop him off at Mr Watts.'
I couldn't wait to jump in the car and go on this mission. I even licked Marta's hand, not once but twice.
Old Mr Watts was sitting on his porch with a tiny kennel by his side. His eyes lit up above his mask.
My eyes lit up too when I saw Mr Watts cradle that tiny bundle of white fur in his wrinkled hands. This little four-legged upstart was finally gone.
Marta turned the car around and soon we were back home. Jumping out of the car, I raced to the bottom of the garden and did a few laps beneath the apple trees.
Life was sweet again. Or was it?
Better keep my pecs well-honed or who knows what might happen.
Woof! Woof!
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