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The Adventures of Rocky

ROCKY ADVENTURE – Rocky Packs for a Trip

Feb 5, 2013

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

I knew something was up as soon as the old man started putting his socks in his travel box. Out of the drawers and organized on the bed was only the first step. And the definite sign that he was going somewhere was the fact that he didn’t want to play at all.

At first I had tried to instigate a game by rolling around on the bed, messing up his little piles. Normally, he would have just wrestled me away and taunted me with a towel or something, but he just pushed me off to the side and kept on with his organizing and packing.

Of course, this worries me in a terrible way. I don’t want to stay here by myself and I don’t want the old man to leave without me. The only way to make sure that he doesn’t forget me is to wait for him by the door. And that’s what I do. I pick up my favorite ball so I’m all prepared for a trip and wait right here in the way. If he wants to leave, he’ll have to go through me.

I wait. The old man hustles from one room to another, grabbing some things and moving them to his travel box. And eventually, he emerges from the bedroom with his now closed box rolling right behind him. A “woof” reminds him that I’m still here and not to forget me.

His eyebrows go up as he does remember, and returns to the room. What he brings back is something strange indeed. A box, floppy all around and somewhat smelly, is dropped down in front of me.

“What is this?” I ask him. “Is it a bag for my stuff?”

He tells me it’s mine, so I go ahead and drop my ball in there. Then I remember something too. One must be prepared if we are to travel, and there’s plenty more room left in my travel box to put some things in that I might need. My food bowl is almost empty, so I grab a few pebbles and bring them back to the box. In they go. I might get cold, so I grab my blanket off the couch and bring it too. That’s when the old man stops me and tells me that’s not what the box is for.

“Well,” I said very matter-of-factly, “what is it for then?”

And in I went, concluding that it was I who was being “packed up,” not my things. It wasn’t near as comfy as my little house and it smelled quite strange. It was as though it was some other dog’s house. Come to smell of it, several other dogs have been in here. And though it might have been uncomfortable, it wasn’t as bad as being left behind.

The old man put me in the car. Then his bag. Then he hopped in and we started down the road. Now, I’m used to being able to pop up and check out where we’re going, but I couldn’t see anything in here. There were some openings where I could poke my nose out to sniff things out, but for now, I was packed up in here like the old man’s socks.

Really, the most uncomfortable thing was the top of the box. Unlike my crate, this thing kept on sinking down on me, more like a blanket than a cover. I pawed it for a while, watching it shift the light and make funny noises. It amazes me how I can be entertained by the strangest things sometimes. It turned out to be so amusing that I completely forgot about the trip we were taking. At least until we stopped and unloaded, discovering that just about everyone else in the world was here too.

Horns sounded, people were talking and walking. Boxes were scraping and bumping on the ground as cars rolled by squeaking and creaking. We had emerged into the busiest place in the whole world. And the part that bothered me was that I had no idea what was going to come next. I could smell, but it was hard to see what we were doing, where we were going, and most importantly- why?

Why are we here? I kept asking the old man, but all he did was tell me to keep quiet and to be a good boy. So I did. At least I tried my best to, but there was just too much going on out there to keep calm about. I just hope he lets me out soon. I think I might have to potty.


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.

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ROCKY ADVENTURE – Warm Winter Party

Jan 29, 2013

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

I popped out this afternoon to see what was going on. My friends came over earlier, so we’ve been busy playing a game of tag inside. But the situation for our companions has been a little different. In and out they’ve been moving. I once even caught a whiff of something yummy, but it went out the back door as well. And that’s what had my attention.

The weather has been much nicer this last week, not completely warm, but not too cold for my paws either. For the most part, it’s been quite enjoyable, which is probably why all our people are out enjoying the outdoors today.

The old man and Debbie are organizing a table with bottles and plates, while Christie and Marty’s companions (whom we have dubbed “the joggers” since they’re always out jogging in the mornings, rain or shine) have been preparing something around the outside cooker. And I might be just a dog, but as far as I’m aware, that device is only used during the summer. But when there’s food concerned, who am I to ask?

So we dogs are now quietly observing from a set distance. Containers move from one table to the cooker, which is opened to reveal the smell of something wonderful. What’s in the container goes into the cooker and it’s closed again. But that part doesn’t interest me as much as what happens next. One, two, three and four drops hit the ground, the splat echoing clearly in our ears. We all see it. Marty, though young, has excellent restraint, which waivers for only a brief second as his eyes twitch and his nub wiggles a little. But, none of us move, for we all know that to get involved would only get us banished from the area. We have to be clever about it.

“I want to see what it is,” Marty whispered. “It smells so good.”

“No!” Izzy warned. “Wait until they’re not looking.”

Buck simply nodded, his previous encounter having made him all the wiser. We would have to wait, then go in for a taste and sniff. So we waited. Christy returned inside with her container, so Buck followed to investigate further while we three sat and waited. The joggers had joined the old man and Debbie, paying strict attention to whatever was on that table.

“Go,” Izzy nudged Marty. The pup waddled over to the spots, detecting a few elements of something tasty indeed which he proceeded to engage feverishly with his tongue. But I could tell that Debbie was losing interest in the table, and possibly getting ready to turn about.

“Come back, hurry!” I yipped as quietly as possible. But Marty wasn’t listening. I’d have to take action quickly or we’d all lose access to the event. I trotted nonchalantly over to him and wacked him with my tail to initiate a chase, which worked. Marty nipped at me and followed me just far enough away as not to raise any unnecessary attention.

Success. No one was any the wiser. We would just have to be patient and wait for the next window of opportunity. And as luck would have it, that wouldn’t be too long. Debbie and the old man each carried something back inside. Once the door closed behind them, we knew that was our chance. I watched the joggers carefully to see if they were watching me. But they were focused on that table for some strange reason.

The spots were still saturated with enough flavor to offer a sample of what might be to come. My tongue told me it was quite tasty, while my ears were deaf to the warnings of my friends.

“Rocky, they’re coming!” Izzy announced, but I didn’t hear. At least not until the old man was standing over me, arms crossed and displaying that look in his eye told me I wasn’t supposed to be doing exactly what I was doing. The old man swept some dirt over the spots, eliminating their flavor forever. Saddened, I returned to my friends as Buck and Christie emerged from the house with more containers.

“Oh well,” Izzy said in a disheartened tone. “It was good while it lasted. Just wish I had gotten a taste.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” I said confidently. “Every time we eat outside, our people are always messy eaters. Just wait and see.”

And sure enough, it took little time for Christie to drop her plate, much of which tumbled here and there and everywhere. Being the helpful pups that we are, we decided to assist her in the act of cleaning up such a mess. After all, what are good friends for?


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.

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Jan 22, 2013

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

You know what makes me mad? Losing my ball. It’s one of my favorite toys, but it always seems to disappear. Most of the time, I’ll put it back in my basket where I keep my other toys, but on occasion it seems to find its way under the couch. But today, it’s neither here nor there, and that has left me with no other choice but to investigate the entire house until I find it.

I begin by asking the old man where he put it. Last time we played, it was he who threw it, so I’m pretty sure he should know where it is. But he doesn’t. Or he isn’t telling. So I continue on by searching under the bed. Now here’s something interesting. While I didn’t find my ball, I did remember that I had hidden one of my chew bones under here. I give it a few chews and put it back for later.

Then it’s into the kitchen, where the old man is presently preparing an afternoon snack for himself. A few crumbs fall, distracting me for mere moments (alright, he might have had my entire attention for the duration of his meal, but I got right back to work after). I checked under the table, finding a few goodies along the way, and even sniffed under the stove, where I found mostly dust.

I pull off some of the couch cushions next, double checking to see the ball wiggled its way between them while I wasn’t looking. After all, you never know where those balls are going to bounce next. But it wasn’t in there. I even dug down into my favorite hiding spot to see if it was hiding under there too.

There wasn’t anything in the old man’s chair or under the table either. Although, I did find an old napkin that smelled like it had once housed a flavorful sandwich. I gave it a few licks then decided it had no flavor at all.

I decided to check outside next. While it may have been icy cold the past week, today was much warmer and the sun was refreshingly inviting. I poked my head out and scanned the yard. Outside, the sun warmed my body while the breeze cooled it back down. Out and about, I took care of some necessities and proceeded with the search. That’s when I noticed Buck next door. He was playing with something, could it be my ball?

“Hey, Buck. Have you seen my ball?” I shouted to him through the fence. While I could poke my head through, not much of Buck other than his nose would squeeze through.

“Nope. This is my fluffy toy Christy got me.” Buck spat out a few tufts of fluff as he bellowed out. “Haven’t seen your ball since we played with it last.”

“When was that?”

“Yesterday. No wait … today? Or maybe it was tomorrow. All these days get me confused,” Buck said, then returned to playing with his fluffy toy.

The trail was still cold, but not as cold as it is out here. I returned inside to warm my paws back up. While the sun might be warm, the shadows always seem to be a little colder. And with the outdoors clear of any suspicion, that ball has got to be somewhere in here.

I was sitting and thinking in the hallway, trying to decide where to search next, when the old man scooted me out of the way. Are we going out? Why does he need to get in the closet? I looked inside, but all that was in there were a few pairs of paw-covers, his walking stick thingy and a bunch of jackets (our people like to put on different covering styles on their bodies because they obviously weren’t gifted with such awesome ones like we pups have). But aside from the old man’s articles, there wasn’t anything in there for me.

The old man picked out his favorite paw-covers (they smell so awesome and I’d love to chew on them) and his walking stick. Maybe we’re going for a walk today. It would be nice to get out and enjoy some fresh air after being inside for so long.

The old man sat down to put his paw-covers on while I got my leash ready. I brought my leash back, but the old man still hadn’t put his covers on. Instead, he was digging in one, his face seemingly confused. When his hand emerged from within the cover, I found at last where my ball had been hiding.

“Good job,” I congratulated the old man. “Now let’s go play outside with it. And don’t lose it this time!”


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.

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ROCKY ADVENTURE – Doggy in A Blanket

Jan 15, 2013

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

I’m the kind of pup that likes the outdoors. A romp through the grass, perhaps a few bird chases, or maybe even an attempt to get a hold of my tail (it suddenly dawned on me that it had been following me all day) make going out so much fun. But, when the yard is sticky and wet and soggy and cold, things aren’t that fun.

So basically, I’ve only been going out to take care of a few necessities. A quick tinkle at the edge of the patio and I’m good to head back in. While there hasn’t been a sign of ice or fluffy snow for a while now, the ground is still soaked. The grass stays sticky and even gets tangled in some of my paw fur on occasion (those stickers give me a flat every now and then, making it worse). Rain falls from the dimly lit sky, making things even worse when I’m out, especially when it catches me by surprise.

But I’ll tell you, the good thing about going out is coming back in. The warm air of the house feels great on my cold fur and there’s a special game I get to play. Because my paws are all wet and muddy, and it’s likely that my belly has attracted a few leaves and other debris, I’m in need of a little cleanup. Most times, I might be left to address this situation myself, but the old man seems to think it is way more fun if we play a game.

Normally, the old man reserves those mini-blanket things we dry up with for bath time or after washing his paws, but we play a game with them today. After my time outside has soaked my best fur coat (my only coat, but it’s a great one), the old man surprises me at the door.

I pop back inside and give a good shake to shed off the extra water that’s clinging to me. That’s when the old man hits me with it. The little blanket drops down on me, smelling quite fresh and clean. It’s supposed to smell like the forest, but I can smell all kinds of weird things that one might never find on a camping trip.

But, getting back to the fact that I now have a blanket covering me, I’m pretty much confused. I can’t see anything, so I’ll have to rely on my hearing to find the best way to get out of here. I move to the left, but the blanket stays with me, tangling and confusing me even further.

That’s when I feel the old man’s hands grab a hold of me and start rubbing me all over while he’s chanting something about warming up. I get the feeling it’s a game. So when I get a break of light, I wiggle my way out and propose a challenge. Catch me if you can!

The old man tosses the towel at me again, but I’m quick, hopping just out of its reach. The old man tries again, tossing the towel at me, this time catching my tail. It’s stuck on me again, and chases me around the room until I get caught on the edge of the couch as I jump up. The old man won’t be able to get me so easily once I disappear under these cushions. I bury myself in my spot, digging deep under it.

But it wasn’t enough. The old man tossed off my cover and tossed on another. I wiggled in the towel, wrestling as the old man tickled my belly and under my arms.

Then the rolling began. Normally, this would be a trick I’d do on my own, but this time the old man must’ve felt obligated to make sure it wouldn’t be easy to get out of this situation. I wiggled around, trying to get out of my bindings. Finally, after enough wrestling, I was able to pop my head out of the rolled up towel, trying to figure out my next move.

The old man moved for me. He picked me up, wrappings and all, and rubbed my nose and neck, tickling my whiskers just the way I like it. We sat down by the fire while my fur dried, kept warm by my little blanket and the old man’s arms. What a great ending to such a fun game. I might even have to go again in a little while.


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.

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ROCKY ADVENTURE – Rocky Hits the Ice

Jan 8, 2013

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

While the piles of fluffy snow might have shrunk to mere mounds that litter the yard and walkway, it doesn’t mean things aren’t still cold. The few moments I’ve spent outside taking care of my necessaries is more than enough for me to lose feeling in my toes. So, I spend as much time as I can right here in my fluffy couch pillow, keeping my paws toasty and comfortable.

Which was exactly where I was when the old man woke me up. I’ll admit that I was a little grumpy at first, but that soon subsided when I realized that he had invited my friends over to play. After all, we have been snuggled up at home for a while now with barely a glimpse of what’s been going on outside. So when I smelled Izzy and Debbie, I was rather excited to have playmates to keep me company.

“Where have you been?” I asked Izzy.

“Been at home,” he replied with a wag of his tail. “Did you see all the snow?”

“Oh yeah, it was terrible.”

Izzy cocked his head at me awkwardly. “I thought it was cool. It’s fun to run around in. The only bad thing was losing all those balls in it. Every time too. Deb would throw me a ball, and I’d even catch it, but then it was gone. It’s quite the mystery.”

“You…like to be in that cold snow?”

“It’s awesome. Don’t you?”

“It was way too cold for my paws. Plus, we couldn’t even go outside the first day because it was too high. I would have been up to my ears in it if I was out there.” I stated, trying to help Izzy understand the difference in our sizes.

“Well, it’s not that deep now. Mostly, it’s just a bunch of piles that we can dig in and see what’s under. Did you know that you can even eat it? And no one gets mad either!”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s too cold for my paws out there, so I’m not going.”

Izzy gave me a sly look. “It won’t be cold if you’re all warmed up!” Then he pounced.

Things got crazy then. We’d been confined for so long that all that energy had to eventually go somewhere. And it did. I wiggled out from under Izzy’s bulky fur coat and started a race that took us everywhere in the house. We dashed through the hall and into the bedroom. Then it was back down the hall and into the kitchen, where I gained an advantage. I was ready for the loss of traction and leapt over to the little carpet close to where the old man keeps my food bowl and water. Izzy had apparently forgotten about the floor’s slippery characteristics, and when sliding right under the table. I hopped right back into the hall and back into the living room before Izzy managed to get any traction. His nails were still clicking and searching for grip by the time I had hidden under the couch pillows.

But even that head-start didn’t help me evade Izzy’s nose. He sniffed me out and pawed all the pillows away, revealing one of my best hiding places (guess I’m just used to hiding from the old man). Back down and out, I raced…for the doggy door.

I didn’t even stop to check how it was outside. Guess I was just excited. The door popped open and I tumbled out and into a small pile of snow. However, Izzy didn’t have quite the sleek figure that I have, so he had to stop and work to get through the door. That bought me enough time to hide somewhere clever. I nudged the snow to the side and started towards the bushes at the far side of the yard. But, I wasn’t moving.

My paw went forward, but didn’t grab onto anything. It just slid, kind of like the kitchen floor. I tried to step again, but ended up on my tail, sliding in a circle. I couldn’t go where I wanted to. Then Izzy joined me, sliding on all four, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Cool, huh?” Izzy exclaimed.

“Why can’t I walk?” I asked, a little confused about the new environment.

“It’s magic. You just have to know what you’re doing. Start by crawling, or you’ll just fall on your tail again.”

Down on my belly (which was getting cold and wet now) I inched my way out to the grass. Once I had firm footing again, I checked out the tufts of snow leftover from the past week. They weren’t as soft as they first appeared, almost like that stuff the old man sometimes knocks out of his cold food-box in the kitchen. So I tasted it. It was about the same, except it tingled on my tongue. And that’s when Izzy messed up my flavor-test by pouncing on the pile and scattering snow over everything- including me. If I wasn’t cold before, I was surely freezing now.


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.

Bookmark and Share


Jan 1, 2013


Porch Potty: Rocky Road

Last night was spent wonderfully with all my friends, but now the day has returned with blinding resolution. While we were safe and warm inside by the fire, a plethora of that white fluffy snow has blanketed the entire world. Unfortunately, this leaves me faced with quite the predicament since the amount of fluff has also prevented me from getting outside. My door is stuck and even the old man can’t open his. Basically, we’re trapped.

You might be wondering that since I don’t really like navigating the snowy tundra of my own yard, why I would want out in the first place. The answer is simple. I have to piddle. The old man has his very fancy indoor potty all to himself, so this particular issue isn’t really something he’s familiar with. When he has to go, he just takes care of it in the warmth and comfort of his tiny room.

So with my need to go in mind, I will definitely need the assistance of my companion to figure out a solution to this predicament. Right now, he’s staring at the picture box, watching shapes drift around with no particular pattern (such a strange habit). First, I’ll just have to get his attention. This is accomplished by pawing at his leg and simply telling him what we need to do. The paw he notices, but he seems oblivious to my words. So I speak a little more clearly. Still no reaction. Guess I’ll have to slow it down so he can understand.

So the old man and I play a game of charades instead, and the conversation went something like this:


“Of course, but that’s not the right answer.”


“No, I need to empty myself first.”


“Good job!”

I rush to the back door and nudge the bell. I taught the old man to come open the door whenever I ring this simple object (companions are so smart like that). Usually, I only use the bell trick when my little door is closed off because of the rain or late at night, but today seems to be a little stranger than most. So I’m sure I’m going to need the old man’s help even after we get outside.

Early this morning, I had surmounted the window ledge to see what all the brightness was about. And behold, the entire world had been covered in a blinding light. And it wasn’t just covered, it was up to the window, as if something had buried our home with the strange texture. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my puppy years. The tree was full of fluff instead of leaves, making it a bright sight to keep my eyes on. Nothing moved out there either. It was as if the entire world had fallen asleep and had yet to wake up from its cozy nap. Birds should be fluttering around somewhere or I should have at least spotted a scene consisting of Mr. Good Cat strolling along the fence line in search of a good conversation (or a shiny object). But there was nothing.

This quiet world leaves me with the challenge of not only getting out there and taking care of business, but making sure that everyone else is awake too. And I hereby assign the old man to assist me with the situation. Now open the door.

But the door didn’t budge. The old man peaked through the window to see what I already knew. He looked at me (I was doing my “I gotta go” dance) and realized the urgency of the situation. He tried the window, which opened after several grunts of effort. The snow trickled in, splatting right on my head. The cold surprise almost made me lose control, but I managed to maintain composure and told the old man to let me out. But he didn’t. He reached out and his hand simply disappeared. All he had to do was shake his head and I knew that we weren’t going out that way.

The window closed and we headed towards the old man’s little room. It’s such a cozy place, filled with scents of paper, shaving cream, and that strange thing he rubs under his arms amongst other things. His bowl (which is not for drinking) is a strange object, consisting of a lid and a seat for the old man. Me, I get to stand on the seat. He picks me up and lets my paws achieve stability. And while my aim isn’t perfect, my needs are relieved.

After I’m done, the old man puts me back on solid ground and his potty-station makes that sucking noise that always fascinates me. I look up at the old man and propose a good idea- maybe you’d better get me one of my own so we don’t have to do this again next time.


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.

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Dec 25, 2012

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

While the weather outside is too nippy for my paws, the fire keeps us warm indoors as I’m busy playing with my new toys. Some fluff here, a few leftover pieces piled over there, and that awesome squeaking thingy is still stuck somewhere in here.

I tried bringing it to the old man to see if he could get it out for me, but he just tossed it across the room. Guess he thought it was a ball or something. I tried a couple more times before coming to the conclusion that the old man obviously wasn’t getting the gist of what I wanted him to do with it. So in the meantime, I’ll just keep trying to get this thing out on my own.

Besides, everyone else seems to be busy with something else entirely. My friends are over, Izzy brought his own toy, but Buck and Marty insisted on playing with one of mine. And that’s just the problem- it was one toy. Two dogs playing tug with my stuffed monkey toy. Sure it stretches out, but only so much.

“Hey, guys,” I said as a tuft of fluff spit out from under my tongue, “don’t tear my toys up.”

“But you’re, mhff, doing it,” Marty smarted back, quickly losing ground to Buck’s overwhelming weight advantage.

I stared down at my slowly disintegrating play toy. I guess nothing lasts forever anyway, and let them go about using the toys as they were meant for- amusement. But this operation of mine is a delicate process, so a quiet place will be necessary for optimal success. At least that’s my prognosis. You’re more than welcome to ask for a second opinion, but I’m the best in the field.

Once I moved to the adjacent room, I continued nibbling on the stuffed remnant’s ear, and that’s when Izzy hopped over me and stole my toy. I stared down at my empty paws in surprise. My ear twitched a little (the left one) and I slowly turned to view the interposing canine. He stared back; the only movement coming from his wagging tail.

“You!” I barked and gave chase. That was exactly what he wanted, of course. Izzy loved to prove his speed and ability. My short coat may be the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, but his fluffy coat gave him a tactical advantage in the game of keep-away. Izzy would turn left, but his fur would make it seem like he was still moving right. We always make fun of him when he gets wet though. All that fur makes him look big, but once he’s soaked, he turns into a skinny little rascal and all us pups have a good laugh.

But he’s not wet today, and his fluff is just a blur of misdirection around the sofa and down the hall. But he made the mistake of rushing into the kitchen without being fully briefed on the present situation. The old man and his associates were planning something for this evening. I was aware of the food involved (obviously), and there were some strange decorations around the house (plus the lights from last week’s gift-giving occasion).

Due to the high number of individuals within the tiny room (I halted at the doorway), it didn’t surprise me that Izzy was snagged up within a matter of seconds. He might be quick, but you must be smart as well, especially during a game of chase. Debbie brought Izzy right to me, toy and all, of which I relieved him with a triumphant smile.

After the successful game of chase, I was able to focus on the immediate task of removing this squeaker from the remaining (and very slobbery) ball of fluff. Up on the couch in my secure spot, I stuck my snout in, digging for the treasure, but it wasn’t even a minute before I was interrupted again. Everyone was here now, plopping down on the couch all around me.

“Hey!” I yelped, “Delicate operation in progress here!”

But everyone ignored me and continued to make themselves comfy on the couch while I was relocated to the old man’s lap. Then the picture box came on, revealing a bunch of people standing and yelling, and a ball dangling in the air. It wasn’t just any ball; it was all lit up so it’s easy to see in the dark. I told the old man we should get one so we can play with at night, then returned my focus to the squeaker at hand.

I nudged further in, catching the edge with my teeth.


It slid away as I pulled.


The edge presented itself, and I tugged.


Almost there, but it’s caught on a thread.


I nipped the string and tugged the squeaker free at last!

“Happy New Year!”

Squeak, squeak, squeak!!


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.

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ROCKY ADVENTURE – A Pup’s Christmas Wish

Dec 18, 2012

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

My ears perked up and my eyes made a flutter

I could hear the old man rustling about somewhere or another

Plastic crinkled and paper ripped

I hopped down from the bed and almost tripped

As my paws clicked across the old wooden floor

Only pausing for a moment to sniff the air right outside the door

Surely this smell couldn’t be my favorite recipe

That’s only reserved for special occasions that include our good friend Debbie

And of course that must mean that other friends have made an appearance

A scent of theirs soon fills the air with a unique fragrance

Which means that this is one of my favorite times of year

One that includes presents, friends, and good cheer.


I soon find myself inspecting all the sights

A home that is full of people, dogs, and bright lights

Of course, there are goodies on the table that I can’t quite see

But that doesn’t stop my nose or my wishful doggy decree

Please, I ask the old man at first,

My best puppy-dog eyes which were well-rehearsed

He pats my head and continues to sip his tea

And does not succumb to my repeated plea

This is just the first attempt in this morning’s feat

Since I can always rely on one of our guests for a treat.


I patter away towards the kitchen to see

Two friends of mine, Buck and Christie

Buck lays lazily, his floppy ears mopping the floor

His eyes seem to wish for the same thing, and nothing more

“Treats?” I ask, to which Christie does reply

“Not right now, silly guy”

Woe is me, will anyone please pass me some goodies

After all, this is a special day that includes things like cookies

I saw you setting them out last night for a jolly big fellow

Dressed in a winter suit and a grand voice that would bellow

Whether he laughs or whispers, it seems he lacks an inside voice

I saw it on the picture box last night, ‘twas the old man’s particular choice.


While being turned down twice might seem like a deterrent

A good dog like me has a determination that remains fervent

So it’s off to check on yet another guest that has entered the scene

With arms full of assorted goodies that make my eyes gleam

Debbie and Izzy announce their arrival

A celebration that demands a toast that none can rival

Oh, I’m so happy to see you guys right about now

Because I could sure use your help getting a treat, if you’ll allow

But in all the commotion, I’m simply neglected

My needs are simple, yet always rejected.


Just a modest treat is all I ask of you

A crumb, a nibble, a couple of licks aren’t too much, it’s true

But the commotion only becomes disorderly

As boxes and bags pile around us abnormally

One for the old man and one for Christie

Then one for Debbie, then comes Izzy

Buck and I aren’t excluded

A box for each of us dogs, ribbons included

Then it’s time for each to open up their mystery treat

Each seems to possess that aroma, ever so sweet

The old man plucks the cover to expose the dish

A new toy to play with and my very own tasty Christmas wish!


Once the goods have satisfied my belly’s desire

I squeak my toy and rush around as the old man warms by the fire

His comfy seat is a favored spot where he observes

The fun filled expressions of his guests as they munch on hors d’oeuvres

After an excited romp about the room, over boxes and through debris

I hop into the lap of my faithful friend, confident that he loves me

Of this there is no doubt, regardless of abundant goodies and the occasional treat

It’s that special something we share that no other could ever repeat.


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.

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Dec 11, 2012

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

The cold woke me up again. Now usually, I’d be snuggled up on the couch with the old man, but he’s busy wrapping those silly boxes again. So, I’m left here alone, tucked in-between these two cushions. Right now, my main goal is to get back to that wonderful dream I was having before (I swear on my tail’s honor that I had dug up a bone bigger than me!).

But that’s not going to happen anytime soon so I’d better take care of this itch that just sprung up on my hip. They tend to be such annoying little tickles. With a few nibbles, it dissipates and I’m back to studying the old man again.

First he puts something in the box (nothing I find attractive). Then he puts the box on the paper and start’s covering it and putting that sticky stuff after to keep things in place. Occasionally, he messes up and makes a ball out of it, which is tossed to the side. At first, I took it as an invitation to play a game, but apparently those aren’t for me to mess with.

Though, I do remember the first time I discovered what that stuff was before it was balled up. A few strands were lying around, which mysteriously found their way onto my paws. Whew! I thought something was trying to get at me. After some wrestling and tugging at my paws (I do believe it managed to steal a tuft of my precious and quite lustrous fur), the strands came off. After that, I figured I’d be better off staying away from such annoyances.

Unfortunately, my time spent on this couch is always interrupted by something. This time it happens to be the one thing that isn’t just going to snag me from my ever so very comfortably warm spot, it is going to take me into the snowy tundra’s of the great outdoors.

Now during the warm weather, this is something I definitely look forward to. Perhaps a quick chat with Buck or even offering a greeting to other neighbors, including the always annoying Mr. Good Cat, make my day that much more interesting. But when it’s this cold outside, I tend to just wish I could take care of business inside where my paws won’t freeze off.

Up from my spot, the cold is already nipping on my left side (it’s always the warmest spot that gets coldest the fastest). I move quick, since the faster this goes, the quicker I’ll get back to snuggling in my spot. Down the hall and to the door which is breathing in the cold as we speak.

I pop my head outside and look both ways. Things changed last night. Usually, you can see the grass and some scattered leaves (some fresh dirt where I was exploring), but the situation outside has drastically changed. Snow, as the old man calls it. And while it excites him, it isn’t exactly my bowl of chow. It’s cold and wet and sticks to my paws.

I hop out onto the clear pathway, which has strangely resisted the magic of this snowy substance. Staying close to the side of the house, I look for a decent place to relieve myself. The garden hose is a no go. Pile of bricks isn’t enticing. Ah, the flower pot (which is home to a pile of snow instead of a flower) presents the ripe opportunity.

Done with business, I hurry back inside. And while the walk is clear, it still manages to neglect providing me with any traction. My rear paws lose their grip and my tail end hits the wet path with a “plop.” It’s just not my day.

Back inside, I get as far away from the door as possible. In fact, I go ahead and tuck back into my spot as best as I can. I lick my paws to warm them, and that’s when I discover the taste. My paws taste funny. They taste like people food. I can’t help but lick them, even after normal feeling comes back.

One thing does stop me though. The looming shadow of the old man hovers over me. “What are you doing, Rocky?” he asks.

“Getting warmed back up,” I inform while showing him my paws.

So, he helps me, and I didn’t even have to ask. A towel envelops me and he starts rubbing me all over while I try to get out. Of course, hide-me is a favorite of mine. All you need is a blanket and a doggy and you have an instant game that never gets old. Though when you stop to think about it, no game ever seems to get old if you’re a dog. And the ones we play together are the best – especially when it keeps my paws warm and toasty.


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.

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Dec 4, 2012

Porch Potty: Rocky Adventure

I peeked around the corner and spied on the old man. He was up to his old tricks again. This one in particular starts off with a towel on the floor. Nothing is mentioned at this point. The old man does it as if it were the base part of any other normal day. But I already know what’s coming.

Then comes time to open the cupboard where he keeps those stinky soaps. Smelly and itchy, they seem far more effective at taking up space under the sink than getting rid of any stink. By this point, he’s already begging to keep an eye on me, as though he were ensuring his strategy had me fooled. But a clever dog like me is already putting things together as we speak.

The bathroom door closes and I hear the water begin to run and fill up the tub. He doesn’t want me to see what he’s doing, but he always underestimates my hearing. And at this time, I begin to apply my own strategy to the situation. The moment is right; since his next move was going to be the removal of my collar (I’d be naked) and then an involuntary dunk in the tub.

While I’m usually pretty good at handling bath time, when it’s freezing outside and cold inside, wet fur is not very comfortable for a dog to be hanging around in. All wet and smelly, the only good place to be is under the covers. But the funny thing is, that’s the exact spot I won’t be allowed in.

So, my plan is to hide. And the trick is to make it seem like I’m not trying to hide. Avoid my common comfy spots and find odd but perfectly acceptable areas. Luckily, one spot that was recently introduced is the shiny tree. Lights, balls, and bits of string dangle, making it a strangely attractive site. Now, the rule here is that I’m not supposed to play with the tree or do any letter writing on it. But, no one ever said I can’t get comfy under it. Plus, it is kind of warm under there.

I navigate a few of the paper-wrapped boxes and find an obscure spot to hide. There’s just enough room for me between a pair of boxes. Now with me in the middle, we make three. And the trick is to look like I’m just chilling here for the moment. Nothing important planned, this just happens to be a nice place to hang at.

I hear him call my name once. This is the harder part to play off. I can’t answer him because it’ll give position away, but at the same time, I’m faced with the fact that he’ll get mad eventually. So, I remain very quiet and very still. Head in paws, I peer out and search for movement out of the corners of my eyes.

Footsteps down the hall and my name is called again, but much closer this time. And it comes again. The third call sounds more distant, perhaps the spare room. Now he’s in the kitchen, getting a little closer. Finally, he enters the dining room. He looks in once and scans. After a brief moment he moves on. The obviousness of my particular placement has rendered me invisible. I’m a ninja dog.

Then the ball dropped. Not metaphorically, rather it was one from high up in the tree. It made little noise as it slid down. It wasn’t until it dropped on my head and I yelped in surprise that anything audible even occurred.

Back at the doorway, the old man eyed my position, which gave me only one choice. I had to play it off. Stretch out the paws and yawn like I just took a big nap. I think he’s buying it. Now for a tail wag. Slow and only a few tosses from side to side, like it’s a good thing he found me. Then make a play for the door, as if I happen to have an agenda that needs tending.

He stops me. “Whoa, can’t a dog get a drink of water? I was just going to satisfy a little thirst.” I tell him. It didn’t work though. I had put off the inevitable long enough to buy me only a few precious minutes. But, those are minutes that I won’t be a cold and wet dog struggling to dry up around the heating vents.

It was time. The collar was off and the tub awaited me. The water was hot, but the air was cold. One paw goes in the tub, then the other. I begged the old man not to do it, but he did it anyway. I faced the cup, the water, and the cold chill that it has right after it hits. Sure the water I’m standing in is warm, but for some wild reason, when it hits the fur, things get cold real fast.

I look up at the old man and give him the stare. I love you and you’re my best friend, but I’m still going to sit right on your pillow when I get out of here. Oh yeah. Just like last time.


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.

Bookmark and Share