The Adventures of Rocky

Oh yeah! The front door opens and I rush out into the yard. When I reach the gate, I turn to tell the old man to hurry up. He has his third leg with him, which does speed him up, but he’s still far slower than my four. He hollers to tell me he’s coming as he manages the two steps down to the grassy yard.

I knew today was going to be awesome when he grabbed my leash and his favorite hat. We always go for awesome outings when he has his hat, and today would hopefully be no exception.

The old man unlatches the gate, and I burst out toward the car. Everything is taking so long! Time seems to go even slower when something great lies ahead. Even the keys jingle and the wind blowing the leaves lingers for a few moments longer than it should.

The car door opens, so I find my place in the seat and wait for the old man to get us situated for the trip. His third leg is placed in the back, then we both get buckled up for the ride. And we’re off.

I continuously ask him where we’re going and how much longer it’ll be, to which the old man reassures me that it’s a surprise. I yip and grunt, letting him know that he’s not giving me the answer I need.

We take the usual route, dropping off the papers at the street box, then heading to the funny smelling place so the old man can feed the road machine. The smell of its food always tingles and burns my nose, and the old man’s hands always smell of it for the rest of the day. It’s all good though, we’re off to have us a good time. Maybe it’ll be a park where I can run and play with some friends, and the old man and I can play a game of throw n’ catch.

But as I watch from my window seat, we pass by both of the parks. I watch as others run and play, dogs and peoples chasing balls and disks all around the open fields. Smaller people-pups crawl around on their bars and in the sand. I tell the old man that we’ve passed the parks, but he doesn’t even act like he knows what’s up.

Before I can really get flustered, the old man stops us in front of a building I’ve never seen before. My leash goes on, and we both exit the car, the old man on his three legs, and me on my four.

Then I can smell the strange difference. The ground and walkway reek of dog scents and marks. It’s on! I rush to the edge of my leash, attempting to make it to a spot that demands my attention.

I walk the old man up to the building. He occasionally tugs me to let me know where we’re going. The doors open for us and the air is filled with so many scents that I feared my nose would explode for sure. Inside, other dogs rushed about, some dragging their companions, others walking with. But all were excited to be here.

We walked together through the isles, checking out the goodies. It was hard for me to focus on what the old man was saying, though. All this new information was entering my mind, giving me so many choices to choose from.

We stopped, and the old man pulled down some toys that squeaked and whistled. He tossed several onto the floor around me, telling me to pick some that I liked. There were balls, fluffy toys, and even one that caught my attention in particular. A ball with holes in it didn’t seem interesting at first, but the ball inside was so irresistible. I wrestled with it for a bit, trying furiously to get it out of the bigger ball.

The old man told me to bring it with us as we walked and explored some more. We walked through the food isles, but this was no time to eat (an extremely rare occasion, I might add). I shook the ball side to side, still attempting to solve this conundrum of a toy. Before I knew it, the old man had found himself a few items to carry, a bag of treats for me included, and we were headed out the door.

Time is funny in a way that it went so slow while I waited to get here, but while we were having a great time, everything went by so fast. By the way, I still haven’t figured out how to get that ball out of the other ball…yet.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

I awoke to the sound of plates clattering in the kitchen. Still groggy from my sleeps, I attempt to orient myself so I can make it to the food source. As a dog, you quickly learn the sound of food being prepared, and that is never an occasion to miss out on. This is no exception.

I hop down to the carpet and squeeze through the doorway. The old man had tried to close the door behind him, but it never seems to seal all the way. I learned long ago that with my nose I can wedge it open far enough for me to get though.

Then, down the hall and to the kitchen I race. My senses are alert once again, and the old man shuffling in the kitchen can mean only one thing- meal time. I stare up at him, his concentration focused on the wonderful smells upon the counter. He tosses and stirs things on the stove, and never seems to pay me any mind. I crawl between his legs and lay down, knowing this always gets his attention. Which it does, but it’s not the way I liked. He tells me to evacuate the premises, and returns his attention to his work. It’s all good, though. I’ll eventually get a sample of that tasty meal he’s cooking up. I always do. No one can resist the eyes of Rocky!

So I lie on the couch and wait. Every changing sound, the clatter of another plate, and even the old man’s grunts of effort alert me as I listen carefully for the meal to be ready. Time seems to draw on, and my mouth yearns for the tasty meal that awaits my belly.

That’s when the doorbell rings to announce the arrival of another. My job takes precedence, and I race to the door to ask who it is. I sniff, but detect no change, so I go to get the old man. He’ll know what to do. The kitchen is still full of smells that make my belly growl, but I deliver the message as my job entitles. After a few moments, the old man decides that he too should inspect the front door. I race him down the hall, and wait, not so patiently, for the old man to do his part. He does.

Debbie, the neighbor enters and offers me a pat on the head. I turn belly and ask for a rub. She gives me a pat and starts chatting with the old man. I’m jealous. They make their way back to the kitchen where the old man gives her a sample of his tasty meal. They continue to ignore me as they laugh and sample the delicious treats, and the old man even gives a flower to Debbie, which she smells and savors. Jealousy overcomes me as I grunt displeasure and return to my seat on the couch.

Soon after, the meal is done, and the two of them sit at the table to laugh and enjoy their conversation above a tasty meal. Only two chairs are present, and when I try to get up into the old man’s lap, he tells me “no” and pushes me away. I’m saddened, and decide that I today is not my day. I slump on the floor and wait for things to change. Perhaps something will fall to the floor, allowing me a sample of this tasty fortune. A few nibbles drop, but nothing to satisfy my craving. So I continue to wait. But they finish before anything substantial can satisfy my palate.

The event quickly transfers to the living room, where the old man and Debbie enjoy a seat on the couch. Something odd here since they never sit this close. In fact, Debbie is sitting in my seat. The two laugh and chatter for a bit longer before I lose my patience. The old man is mine. My best friend. My everything.

I jump up between them and dig myself into the couch. They laugh and grab at me. But the grabs turn to rubs and massages as the two of them give me the love I so much enjoy.  “Jealousy,” I hear Debbie accuse me of. She’s right. I would never put anyone before the old man, and that is what makes him so special to me. My heart belongs to him, and I hope that he feels the same about me.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

Today has been a busy day, mostly full of lazing about and chewing on my favorite toy. Every now and then, the squirrel toy squeaks, so I bite down harder. I can feel my teeth push into the fluffy creature and catch onto something tougher, but it always manages to squirm away from me. I get lucky sometimes and get a good grip on it which fills the house with squeaks of joy…at least for me. After a while, it seems to drive the old man a little crazy.

One such time is this very moment. The old man’s expression stiffens, and his head cocks just a little. It doesn’t affect his work at the piano though. He still manages to play a few notes and make scribbles on his paper without letting onto the fact that he’s becoming annoyed. Once I’ve teased him enough, the squirrel and I head down the hall to enjoy a good romp around the sofa and then out the doggy door and into the backyard.

I take care of a little business before noticing that our neighbor is outside. Christy waves to me over the fence and asks me how I’m doing today. I tell her how busy I’ve been, doing what I do best, but that I have this itch behind my ear that needs to be tended too. I put my front paws up on the fence and give her my classic “Please” eyes. She leans over, scoops me up, and scratches the wrong ear. But she finds her way to the right one after a few moments.

I thank her and try to give her a kiss, but she looks at me with scrunched eyes and a wrinkled nose. She shakes her head and tucks me under her arm. We head around to the gate and make our way to the back door. After a few knocks, the old man opens the door with a bewildered look in his eyes. Christy tells him something, the only word I catch is “stinky.” I don’t know what she’s talking about, I just had a bath last week. I think I smell great!

Christy tells the old man to follow, and we all three head back to her yard where I’m handed off to the old man. He looks at me and gives my nose a sniff. His face scrunches up and he pulls back, the scent seemingly not very agreeable with him either.

The back door opens up and Thieves sleepily waddles out into the yard. Christy follows close behind with something in her hand. Toys, maybe? The old man takes a seat on a bench and holds me in his lap. It’s like I’m in trouble or something, and I’m starting to get worried.

“What’d I do?” I whine. “I’m sorry! I won’t squeak the squirrel while you’re playing, anymore!”

Christy sits next to us and squeezes some smelly stuff on her fingers. I move in for a closer smell, and that’s when they got me. Christy opened up my mouth and started tickling my mouth with the stuff. I squirm, but the old man holds me tight.

It’s scary at first, but after a moment, it started feeling kind of good. I usually just chew on sticks or my bone to get to those itches, but hey, if they’re going to do it for me, why not enjoy. Plus I get this tasty stuff (I lick most of it off her brushy thing before they even put it in my mouth).

I look up at the old man, his eyes very intent as he watches Christy scrub my mouth. She tells him things while she scrubs and brushes, the old man nodding along and agreeing as he watched carefully. The old man pets and strokes my back, making the experience something that I could be pampered by every day. The attention is great, especially when it’s all about me! Even Thieves is watching from his spot behind Christy, his little bandit eyes never blinking.

Then Christy stops and hands the stuff to the old man. He gives me a very intense look over his eye glasses. The little brush thing on his finger gets a fresh dose of the tasty stuff. Then he pulls my lips apart and starts scrubbing, too. I lick him a few times and show him where it feels the best. Guess you can teach an old man new tricks.

“I found myself in a grassy field. All around are scents of wonder and sounds that reminded me of something familiar that I cannot see. The fresh grass tickles my feet as I wander to explore this new place. I glance from side to side, seeking something that will tell me where I am. The smell is familiar, but the surroundings aren’t. This field, the bright sky, and the cool breeze of spring all tell me that I’m free for the moment.

Then the rabbit runs. So I do what comes natural. I chase the furry rascal, asking him where we are. He doesn’t answer, neither does he slow down. So I continue the chase. After all, what would I do with all this freedom but enjoy some good sport on this beautiful day. He dashes left, then right, but he won’t escape me. Though my feet move, it feels as though I’m floating…or even flying through the field.

The rabbit stays ahead of me, never evading, but never slowing either. Then more join the chase. Bunnies, that is. They’re everywhere now. So many, that I couldn’t catch them all by myself. It seems that I was in desperate need of help.

A bark from behind tells me that someone else is here.  To aid me in my situation, Izzy speeds past and tells me to hurry up with his excited yelps and howls. So I do. But the bunnies still evade our grasp. We’ll have to work together. I tell Izzy to chase one of the bunnies in a circle, and I’ll catch him in the middle. Izzy steers the bunny left ward, forcing the bunny back towards me. Together, we plan a clever trap in which the bunny falls into just as we planned. I pounce and a thousand bubbles explode into the air.

Izzy jumps high and snaps at a few. I chase some of the lower ones that tickle my nose when they pop. Then a huge bubble, as big as me, floats in the air high above. I have to have it. I jump, and the bubble sucks me in. I float there, looking down at the grassy fields full of bunnies and bubbles. Izzy calls up to me, telling me to get down. But the feeling is so amazing.  I tell Izzy to get in with me and that we can go exploring. But when he jumps, the bubble pops, and I fall back into the field, the grass catching and comforting me like a fluffy pillow.

When I look up, things have changed. At least, I think they have. The old man throws me a ball. It bounces down the hallway, and lands in the kitchen. I chase it around the room, but it always rolls out of my reach just when I think I’ve got a hold of it. I slide across the kitchen floor, but I can never get traction. My paws move furiously, but I can’t seem to get anywhere. The sound of the ball bouncing and the piano playing become louder as I slide away from the table. I start to get worried when the door begins to slide away from me. But the old man enters the kitchen, bringing the door and the ball back to me. I snatch the ball up and notice that it’s become a tasty treat, perhaps banana, I think. So I enjoy the texture as I chomp it down and wag my tail happily.

When I’m done, I look up to see the old man stares down at me, a smile on his face and my leash in his hand. His smile widens as he tosses the leash away and runs out the kitchen and through the front door. He runs, so I must chase. And through the grassy fields we run and play forever and a day.”

The old man looks down at his beloved Rocky. Little paws patter the air and a soft “woof” repeats as the little pup chases dreams through the imagination of a happy dog’s mind. Even though he is not the dreamer, the old man offers a smile of his own before returning to his book. As he reads, the old man too slips off into his own sweet slumber.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

With the house back to “normal,” I thought that the excitement was over for now. But I was very wrong. Right now, the house is full of people, some familiar and others I’ve never smelled before today. They’ve all gathered here…except for the old man. Yep, earlier this morning I was told to be good with a pat on my head as the old man and Debbie headed out the door for some shopping. Shortly after, these people arrived…along with some goodies.

The table and counter are littered with those present boxes, and the smell of sugary sweetness amongst other delicious tastes fills the air. Since their arrival, they’ve managed to change the looks of my home from “normal” to festival. Balloons are up on the ceiling, some of their strings hanging down far enough for me to catch (which is what I’m doing at the moment). Inside the kitchen is a much larger table covered in decorations and now awaits some of those fresh goodies for my tummy.

For now, this balloon has my firm attention, and no matter where I run, it follows and bounces along the walls and ceiling. One of the old man’s grandchildren is chasing me around, only making the situation that much more fun. I think this is the fifth balloon that they’ve taken away from me, and it won’t be the last.

After we take a few laps around the kitchen table, the balloon gets caught on one of the chairs and pulls out of my grasp. That doesn’t count for their team. We’ll call it a fumble and move on from there. I hop up and grab another low hanging sting to continue the game. This round ends quickly when the odds change and another pair of hands jumps in to assist. No fair.

Christy scoops me up and tells me to calm down. Something’s up. Everything is quiet, and the lights are going out. She takes me into the kitchen where everyone has already gathered and we wait in the dark. Well, it’s almost dark. A tasty cake illuminates the darkness with a single candle. I try to tug away to get at it, but Christy holds me fast and tells me to be quite.

That’s when the front door opened. I instantly picked up the scent of the old man. Then I hear some of his conversation with Debbie echo up the hallway. I hollered for the old man and told him they weren’t playing fair. But when he got to the kitchen and turned on the light, everyone started cheering and yelping, too.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. But then he smiled. He started hugging everyone and thanking them all. I was dropped back down to the floor so that I could join my companion. I trotted over and pawed his pant leg to let him know I was there. He scooped me up with a grunt and held me tight against his chest (his heart was beating a little faster than normal).

After the excitement had calmed and passed, we all gathered around the table, cake, and candle. The old man took a seat in his chair, and I took a seat in his lap. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then blew the candle out.

Everyone cheered, so I did too. Then the important stuff started happening. The cake was cut, divided, and passed out to the other party goers. Eventually everyone got a piece except for me. I looked up at the old man, my huge puppy dog eyes doing their best work ever. He thought. He pondered. His eyebrow lifted just a hair, letting me know that my efforts were working. Please…

And just when the old man was about to give (I saw it in his eye), Debbie brought me my own cake. She said it was a little something made especially for me on a special day. So, the old man and I enjoyed our own special cakes and the company of these very good friends and family.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

I awoke to find that my afternoon sun had moved away from my bay window. It always seems to do that. I get all comfortable and warm, and when I finally doze off, that annoying sun has to go and move to the next room. All I can do is move with it, I guess.

As I make my way from the dining room and into the living room, I notice some strange sounds from below me. The hallway is dark, but I’m sure that something is here with me. I sniff the floorboards, searching for the strange difference that has presented itself. When my nose argues against what my ears tell me, I decide I must investigate further. The hallway is usually well lit, the light from the kitchen at the other end is usually on, but something is in the way today. A door? What an odd place to put one, but then I notice that the door is actually open to another room, but closing off the kitchen for now. Well, not all the way. I can still squeeze through if I wanted to, but this new room has me intrigued for the moment.

I sniff the cold, damp air that is in there. It smells dusty and pungent, proving an excellent opportunity to get a little dirty. My paws and nails click as they hit each wooden step, and down into this strange dungeon I go. When I reach the bottom, I notice the old man has beaten me to my exploration rights. It looks like he’s putting the tree from upstairs into a box. He struggles to pack it into the box along with all those pretty lights and toys that were on it. But there are more boxes and things down here besides just the tree. The old man must keep all sorts of toys and things down here. I’ll just have to check it out and make sure they’re all safe (and maybe play with a few to make sure they still work).

The old man doesn’t seem to pay me any mind as I start rummaging through a few boxes that are underneath some old tables. I can’t get to the ones on top, so I’ll just have to take care of these ones first. Inside the second box, there’s some smaller boxes, an old ball and leather glove (chew toy? I think maybe so). But what I like is the paper. It smells funny, like another animal. I pull some out to inspect it. When it seems fine, I dive in for some more. That’s when I find the coolest toys of all. Two little critters scamper around at the bottom of the box, like a couple of bouncy balls that were thrown into a small room.

“Hey, old man!” I bark excitedly. “Check this out!”

The tree falls to the ground, still only about halfway in the box. The old man hurries to my side, almost as excited as I am. At least until he sees what’s in the box. Apparently he doesn’t like this kind of toy. That’s okay. I’ll play with them if he doesn’t want them.

I pull the box over so that we can get to the rascals. They scamper out and scurry around on the floor. While the old man is hollering and jumping around (maybe he does like to play with these – I’ve never seen him so excited), I give chase. The two critters go different ways, so I pursue one, and the old man chases the other. Mine manages to get to another box, and enters a small hole at the bottom. I enter the big hole at the top. There’s more paper in here, which prevents me from seeing, but my nose still works well, regardless. I find the critter and pin it to the floor. It’s warm and squeaky, and even the little tail at the end of it wiggles like a wind-up toy.

I tell the old man that I’ve got mine, and it looks like he’s got his. That leather glove toy apparently made a good critter catching mitt. He smiled as he held his with one hand, and pulled me out of the box with the other. My critter! But the old man was fast. He picked the box up and dropped his own catch in with the other. I could hear them both scampering around the box excitedly.

“Good job,” I tell the old man. “What now? Do you want to do it again?”

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

I have to say, I’ve enjoyed the last few days. Though the weather has been cold, and the fluffy snow makes it hard to take care of business, the old man and I have been spending a lot of time together. And today we’ve been getting ready for a feast again (this time of year seems to have a lot of these, but I’m not complaining).

The counter is full of goodies and treats, all of which smell delicious. I can even catch a scent of an apple pie baking in Debbie’s kitchen. Perhaps she’ll bring it over when it’s done.

The old man pulls another set of goodies from within the oven and places them on the table. This is of course not a good idea, since I haven’t eaten since…well, since a little while ago, and I’m starving. I watch the old man, waiting until he’s not looking. When he turns his back to check on the oven, I make my move. My snout just barely reaches the table top, and I can smell something delicious. I take a few licks, the taste of salt, lemon, and something fishy fills my mouth. And then I discover that it’s hot. Very hot.

And not to mention the fact that I’m busted. The old man scolds me as I sneeze and rub my singed snout. It hurts, but it was worth it. At least I think so. I scamper on out of the kitchen, having carried out my mischievous plan for the day. The old man is still scolding me when I leave. It’s okay. I have to do something to keep the old man on his toes.

There’s a knock on the door, and I’m on it. While the old man takes a bit to get down the hall, it takes me a few seconds to get some traction on the wooden floor (the rug is missing for some odd reason), and I’m there. I can’t see who it is, but I inform them that it’ll be just a moment before they can come in. And then I add that when they do, don’t touch my stuff, and wipe your paws.

When the door opens, Debbie walks in carrying her famous pies, and Izzy romps through her legs and makes himself at home on the couch. But these aren’t our only guests. A few other faces have joined in, none of which I am very familiar with. A man, a woman, and a couple of their youngsters adds to the audience. While I do enjoy some company, I don’t know who they are. So I do what any other pup would do in my situation. I bark my head off.

It takes a while for the old man to calm me down, but it doesn’t change my feelings for these newcomers. After some introductions (perhaps they should have done that before they strolled into my house), things get smoothed over as a big misunderstanding.

They turn out to be some of the old man’s family who’ve dropped in for a nice visit. Though, I think they’re just after my snacks. Maybe even my bone. So, I hide my bone.

Once that’s well hid (I won’t tell you where, you might be after it, too), I rejoin the party. We snack and play games. Well, the peoples play their game, Izzy and I just do our best to get in the way. I even managed to get a hold of one of their silly hats they have to wear. After a wild chase around the house, everyone is left out of breath, but we’re all laughing nonetheless. It’s good to have fun.

It gets dark soon, but no one goes home. They just keep playing games and snacking. That’s when I notice the cups. They’re everywhere. One here and a few there. All of them are just lying around. The peoples have been drinking from them, perhaps something tasty that I haven’t had a chance to sample. I nudge one with my snout, and it falls over. Empty. I knock over another. Empty, too. Then the stranger sees me. I give him a funny look. He gives me a funnier look. Or maybe he just looks that way. Then he drops down and offers me a sample of his cup. I sniff and notice a rather pungent smell. It tingles in my nose. I like the feeling, so I drop my tongue in and drink up.

“No!”

The sound surprised me, and I ran. Unfortunately I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and ran right into the piano bench. Then I spotted the old man. He was mad. That’s all I can say. He wasn’t mad at me though. He was mad at the other fella. After a good scolding, the old man started picking up all the cups and throwing them away. Even though he looked a little upset, the fella helped, too.

Then I was scooped up by the old man, who looked at me with that stern look and asked me if I was okay. I just hiccupped a “maybe.” He shook his head and told me that I’d done enough mischief for one year. Then we took a seat on the couch, and I dozed off in the old man’s arms.

And I didn’t even wake up until the next year.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

What’s with all the noise? These odd smells? Everything was wildly different when I awoke this morning. By the time I had made my way into the living room, everyone was already waiting for me. Then I saw them. Boxes and bags were strewn about underneath the tree. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. All I know was that when I went to sleep last night, the floor beneath the tree was clean. I had made sure of that. I looked up at my companion for an explanation. The old man just gives me a surprised look, but there’s a gleam in his eye that tells me he knows something.

Today must be special, because all my friends are here. Debbie and Izzy brought us a pie and even some extra goodies that were put on the table for snackies later (they think I can’t get to them, but with a little help from my friends, I’m sure we can get into some mischief). Even Christy has stopped in for a visit. Thieves is lucky enough to join us for the occasion, even though the old man was a little worried at first. But after I told him that it was cool, he agreed.

So, Thieves, Izzy, and I proceeded to inspect each other. After that was done, we moved on and started with the boxes. I took the left side of the tree, Thieves crawled into a bag, and Izzy found a box with a ribbon that he liked in particular.

When that situation turned out rather badly, we were moved out into the yard fairly abruptly. It’s all good though. I had to take care of my morning business. In all the excitement, I had neglected my over-filled bladder.

We chased each other around for a bit, talking excitedly about what we had smelled underneath the tree. I was convinced there were some flavorful eats, while Izzy claimed that his favorite flavored bone was in there somewhere. Thieves said he liked the paper that he had found in the bag. I like it too. Paper sounds cool when you thrash it around and pounce around with it. Plus, it feels funny in my mouth and on my face.

The door opened, and out popped the old man. He didn’t even get to call us. I rushed through his legs and into the room. The boxes had changed into things. Clothes, gadgets, and I even spotted a new hat for the old man. He always wears the ones that give him a lot of shade all around his head, not like the ones with a cover just over his snout and eyes. He looks good in them, and so few others seem to wear them around here.

With no time to waste, I rush over to the tree to see what’s left. Only a single box and a bag are left sitting beneath the tree. I look back at the others, wondering if one is for me. Debbie is petting Izzy, trying to calm him down, while Christy sits on the couch, cuddling with Thieves.

The old man drops down and gives me a good scratch behind the ear. He points at the remaining items and points at me. Then he does it again, but points to my two friends instead. I understand. I grab the bag, and since Thieves seemed to be a little particular to it, I gave it to him. The box with the ribbon goes to my friend Izzy. Debbie helps Izzy open his, while Thieves rushes head first into his own bag of goodies. He rustles around for moment before emerging with a scarf and a bag of treats. I lick my lips. At the same time, Izzy chomps down on his favorite flavored bone. A whole boxful for him to enjoy sits on the floor. I lick my lips again.

I’m kind of sad, I guess. But, seeing my friends so happy…makes me happy. Then the old man gives me a good scratch behind my ear. I look up to see that he has that mischievous look in his eye again. Then he slides me my own present, a little something just for me.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

Aha! No time for walkies today, we’re going for a ride. From my spot in the window, I watched the old man scraping last night’s fluffy snow off the windshield. Things have been extra cold this week. It’s always neat when it’s cold like this, because instead of water from the sky, we get this fluffy stuff called snow. And luckily for me, snow tastes way better than water. I guess maybe I just like the way it tingles on my tongue, but it’s irresistible nonetheless.

I run around in the fresh blanket of cold wetness as I try to seek a good place to do my daily. A pile of leaves offers something better than the wetness, and I take care of business. Then the old man calls me to load up. I don’t know what we’re doing, but we always have fun doing it. He loves to sing while we drive, and I like to listen. We’re quite the pair, if I do say so myself.

I hop up into my seat, but something’s a little different here. Instead of my regular freedom, I get a leash that holds me fast to the seat. It’s like the one that the old man puts on, but I don’t like it. It feels strange, and I let the old man know. I struggle against it for a moment while the old man changes something. Then everything is cool, and I’m back to sitting right in my spot again.

Then the fun starts. We’re moving, (the feeling is felt rather than seen) and the old man starts up his jolly singing. I stare out my window at the moving world around us. With this fascinating white blanket over it, the world looks rather bland. Usually, you could spot different houses, yards, and people, but today everything looks the same.

We stop for a moment, and I get a new view. Some people pups and their mama and papa are building balls of snow and piling them up on each other. They run and play in the fluffy whiteness, and I see that the snow does change the world in its own special way.

We pull into a place where the people put their cars, and the old man puts ours in a spot next to another. Its cold out, so the window is opened just enough for me to talk to the other pup in the next car. I get a firm pat on my head and am told to be good. “I’m always good,” says I. Then I offer my most innocent puppy eyes to confirm. The old man chuckles and leaves me alone for now. I watch as he enters the large building where he gets our food stuffs.

When he’s out of sight, I turn back to the window and try to jump up to talk to my neighbor. Unfortunately, I forgot that this leash thing was still on. After some maneuvering, I manage to wiggle enough to get out and start telling my neighbor that this is my car. He says he knows, and tells me that he’s in his car. Then he says that he likes his bone. I tell him that I might like his bone, too. That was a mistake, because he got real mad. I apologized and told him that I didn’t want his bone. It was just that I thought it was probably so good that any pup might like it. He calmed down, and we started talking about toys and food stuffs.

After a while, I spot the old man approaching. He’s pushing a buggy full of bags (I like to play with them, but I’m not supposed to). He opens one of the doors in the rear and piles in some of our new goodies. I try to sniff them to see which ones I want, but the old man pushes me back into my seat and wonders how I escaped my leash. I shrug as innocently as possible.

He leashes me back in and takes care of himself as well. Then we’re off, likely back towards home. I recognize some of the same houses. I spot the people pups still piling snowy balls up and putting sticks in them now. We slowed and stopped so I could get a better look.

That’s when the craziest thing happened. The whole car shook, and the old man let out a yelp of his own. Our leashes held us fast to the seats so we didn’t fall down. I looked around to see what was wrong. The old man did the same. Then he said a few words that I didn’t understand and picked up his talking box toy and started pushing on it with his shaking paws. He told me to stay as he got out and went to talk to another man.

After he’d talked to some other peoples and a protector man, he got back in and shook his head. It was all a little scary, I guess. He gave me a good pat on the head and checked my leashing thingy again. He secured his own leash and let out a sigh. Then he smiled and started singing again as we headed for home.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.

Can’t….quite…Oh, I got it. That’s better now. Things have been a little itchy since I got back from the vet. Nothing major, it’s just in an odd spot that’s hard to scratch. Everything’s cool though. Things are almost back to the way they used to be. The old man is still a little cautious about letting me go out by myself. But, it seems like he’s a little more comfortable with letting me have access to the good old outdoors again.

Really, I don’t feel the need to go out just for fun, anymore. The days are definitely colder. My luscious days of sunbathing are now spent in front of the bay window, where the cold stays outside and the sun can comfort me. But, for the moment, I’ve got to take care of business. I hop up and go tell the old man that I’m going outside. I find him in the kitchen, probably getting himself some snackies. I do want, so I give him my best puppy dog eyes I can manage (I’m great at this and it’s never failed me). He drops a few crumbs as he crunches on a tasty morsel. I help him by quickly picking them up. He spots me and “accidentally” drops a piece. I thank him and gobble it up. Just some toast, but it’s still delicious.

Then I tell him about my business elsewhere and head for the door. I look back to see if he wants to go, too. But he doesn’t follow. I pop out into the cool air and search the yard for intruders. To tell you the truth, I’m still a little cautious myself. When the coast is clear, I proceed to look for a nice spot to go. I circle and sniff, and when the time is right I take care of business.

That’s when I smelled it. Another pup? I scan the fence line. Thieves is on his usual perch, but he isn’t looking at me. I look for what he sees and discover an intruder. I rush over to the fence to investigate. My small head easily squeezes through the boards so that I can get a better look at the fellow. He’s a well-groomed pup, his coat cut and brushed with great care. He is even attached to his also very well-groomed companion by a fancy leash. I realize they’re just out for a walkies, but I warn them that this is my yard, just so there’s no misunderstanding.

“Hey, watch it, mutt.” the well-groomed dog calmly replies. He plays it cool, but I can tell this fella was doing nothing more than insulting me.

“A mutt? Did you call me a mutt?”

“Yes sir. I call them like I see them.”

“How rude!”

“What do you mean?”

“Calling me a dirty word like that. I’m not a mutt.”

“Yes you are. You’re not purebred like me, so you’re a mutt. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, sometimes you guys have it easy. Me, I have to get dressed up all the time so I can look good when we go out.” He motions to his companion and rolls his eyes.

“Ya, but I’m not a mutt. That’s rude to say.”

“It’s not rude. It just designates that you’re a special type of dog. There’s Collies, Scotties, and Poodles like me, but when you’re a mixture, you’re a mutt. You’re unique. There’s not another combination in the world that makes another pup just like you. Oh well, time for us to go. We have to get home in time for dinner. Take it easy, mutt.”

I watch the pup and his companion continue further down the walk and around the corner. I’m still a little confused. I always thought mutt was a bad word. If I’m a mutt, I guess it can’t be that bad. After all, the old man did pick me. I guess being a mutt makes me special…at least to him, and that’s all that matters.

Author:

Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.  Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a “dog’s eye view” and share in their thoughts.  Please enjoy, and we hope that you’ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dog’s very own Rocky Adventures.