The day has been fairly uninteresting. This morning, the old man slept in longer, which he seldom does, until I nudged him with my wet nose to tell him it was time to eat. He did smile at me when he awoke though, informing me that my job was well done. Sometimes, I think that if I weren’t here, he might not want to get up and share the day with the world.

Such it has been for a while though, often reminding me of the old days when we could go for our daily walks and play around in the park. Before he got his third leg, he seemed to be a little faster. Since then, he’s slowed down, having trouble getting down the steps in the back yard, so that he can play in his garden. The front door isn’t as bad, though. Only one step drops off into the grassy yard, and is easily manageable.

Now, I’m sitting here, a little bored, waiting for the old man to wake up from his nap. After the time seems to slip away, I get a little anxious, and a mischievous thought enters my mind. I hop down from my spot on the couch and go to check on the old man. He sleeps still, not quite soundly though. His snoring is loud enough I can hear it in my own dreams. I won’t bother him right now, in fact, it’s better if he’s asleep while I slip out for a walk of my own.

I’m careful not to let the doggy door squeak as I slip through, and now free, I rush out into the yard and take care of some quick business. Then my journey begins. I won’t wander far, I promise myself. So I start by sniffing around the fence. A couple of messages are left for me, and a strange one that I am unfamiliar with. I write them back.

Further down the street, I run into Izzy. He’s a lot bigger than me. What’s always made me laugh is that just because he’s an Australian Sheppard, he thinks he has to talk like that guy on the Discovery channel. Though he is sometimes full of himself, he’s really a great dog. He tells me about his new toys and how his lady lets him do whatever he wants because he’s the boss. (That’s by far a lie – he does whatever she wants him to. He talks big, but loves her more than anything else in the world.) We chat for a bit until his lady calls him inside. He obediently responds, proving my point. I laugh and continue on my way.

I continue to trot along, sniffing here and there. Then a new scent catches my nose, so I follow. It’s very strange. I think it’s another animal, maybe a cat! A “meow” solidifies my thoughts. The rascal is hiding in a bush, and the chase is on. He dodges left, I follow. A sharp right, but I stay on its tail, barking my war cry and challenging the cat to go faster. Then up a tree and onto a high branch, the cat escapes me. I continue to bark for a few moments more, before realizing that I’m quite lost.

I look around, but everything is unfamiliar. I run back to the sidewalk and try to retrace my steps. I walk up and down the walkway for a bit before catching my own scent. I mark it, just in case, and rush back towards home. I get lost once more, but spot Izzy’s house across the street. I know where I am again, and make a mad dash back for home.

I rush through the doggy door, spotting my old friend at his piano bench. He’s just now finishing one of his favorite classics. I hop up on the bench just in time. The old man moves his hand to the far side of the keyboard, but scratches behind my ear instead of finishing his song. I raise a paw and hit the last note in timely fashion.


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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