Back in my cushion pile, I double check to see if any paws have been prying at my secret stash. Ball? Check. Fluff collection? It’s still here. Bone… Where’s my bone? Someone has been here. Someone has taken my bone.
Panic sets in at first. Who would have taken my bone? Who would know where it was hidden? No one knows about my stash, not even my best friends, Izzy and Buck. And surely, Christie and Debbie wouldn’t want it. Or would they?
I have to calm down. There are too many variables racing through my mind right now and all I’m doing is blaming everyone. But, it can only be one of them, so I have to find the clues that’ll lead me to my bone. Let’s see, the old man and I began our travels many days ago (I have since forgotten when it was that we left), and as far as I know, there wasn’t anyone else in the house when we left.
I dig in deep, sniffing all of my treasures to see if there are any trace elements of the perpetrator. There’s nothing on the ball, but I catch a faint whiff of something different stuck in the fuzz. Evidence? It’s not the old man’s scent, but it is somewhat familiar.
The fluff pulls apart easily, revealing a new item caught in the tangles. It smells fruity, and a little gummy, like those treats that Christie likes to snack on sometimes (she doesn’t ever share those ones). This is a great clue to start out with and gives me an excellent place to start investigating the whereabouts of my bone. But first, I eat the clue (just to make sure nothing is overlooked) and it isn’t that great.
It’s time to go check on some possible suspects. Down the hall and out into the yard (it’s nice to be able to go out whenever I want to again). I braced for a cold blast, but was met with a comfortably warm breeze. I can already smell the new grass beginning to grow and even the birds have begun hopping around in the tree again (though the leaves aren’t there yet).
Then I spot Buck, who is now sniffing around some new flower pots. He looks suspicious. It’s time to see what he knows.
“Hey, Buck,” I call out nonchalantly. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing!” he sharply responded, his leg hiked up halfway while he checked his surroundings. When he realized it was just me, he finished what he was doing and joined me at the fence.
It was time to get down to business. “Have you seen my bone?” I started. “You know the one that smells really delicious?”
“Not me,” Buck answered without hesitation. “Where was it?”
“Ha! Nice try, Buck. I’m not telling you where my secret hiding place is.”
“That’s okay. I already know where it is.”
“What?” I drew back in surprise. “Alright, where is it then?”
Buck shrugged confidently, “behind the third couch cushion after you pass the zipper on the left.”
How could this be? I’ve been hiding my things there forever, and suddenly everyone knows where it is. And I know that if Buck knows, every dog in the neighborhood surely knows. Then it hit me. Buck did have my bone. If he knew where it was, then it’s obvious that he took it.
“So it was you that took it!” I accused. “Why did you try to lie to me? You must’ve known I’d figure your scheme out in the end.”
“You asked if I had seen it. I didn’t. But Christie, she could smell it,” Buck chuckled to himself. “She went over there to take care of some things, and I heard her scream that she’d found something smelly.”
“She could smell my secret hiding place?” I was befuddled. Rarely could our companions appreciate a good sense of smell. But, she must’ve liked it so much that she took it for herself. And that’s just rude. “I guess it’s gone now. I really liked that bone too. It still had a lot of flavor stuck to it.”
“I don’t think she liked the smell, so I’m sure she didn’t keep it,” Buck assured. “In fact, I think it bothered her so much, that when she came back out, she tossed it out into the yard. And I don’t remember her picking it up.”
“So, it’s in the yard?”
“Probably, if the squirrels haven’t taken off with it yet,” Buck affirmed, but then turned away thoughtfully. “Those rascal critters, I think they stole the flowers out of the pots too.”
“I’ve got to go,” I cut him off before he started ranting on any further. He can drift off with his wild accusations and they’ll last for hours, especially when it comes to squirrels or bunnies.
I scanned the yard, searching for anything out of place. Zigzagging, I checked under sticks, leaves, and even some dirt. Then I caught a whiff of something. It was strong and powerful, floating in on the breeze. I followed it right to the far edge of the fence, and uncovered my bone. Victory!
I knew I would find it. And now, it’s time to chew. Unfortunately, the smell was obviously less appreciated by others, and as soon as I returned it to its spot, the old man found it and replaced it with something new. And this one did taste a little better too.
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.