I love our car rides. Those loveable journeys across the land, through the hills, and just about anywhere else that I can see myself standing with the old man are places that Iâ€™m completely unafraid to go. But, I donâ€™t really â€œseaâ€ myself standing out here in my current predicament, now do I? I can barely keep my balance, let alone my stomach on this odd piece of land that seems to bounce with the horizon.
This morning was great, especially since both the old man and I had a hearty breakfast that consisted of my regular, plus a few parcels of table-top extras that were completely out of the ordinary. Only on special occasions, or at least when the old man is extra-exuberant, would I find such luxuries in my food bowl. But I did, and there is no way that I would be complaining about that.
But, I am complaining about what has seemingly forced me to lose what I had so graciously received this morning. I hate bouncing. If I had wanted to bounce, I do believe Iâ€™d have found my way into a Kangarooâ€™s pouch, just like on Izzyâ€™s favorite picture-box. They hop around, erratically racing through fields as they play â€œtagâ€ with a few odd-looking dogs that never seem to be as fast. â€œDingosâ€ as they are constantly referred to, and always reflecting the same ideology of a dingo in their pursuits. Iâ€™d have gone about my gameâ€™s tactics from a completely different view, but Iâ€™m not chasing that kind of strange looking rabbit through an open field. I stick to what I know, but that isnâ€™t exactly what weâ€™re doing here today.
Nope, and in fact, this very situation has caused me to lose that very breakfast that I had enjoyed so incomprehensibly. An extra slice of bacon and a parcel of toast had said to me, â€œyouâ€™ve been a good boy today, and itâ€™s not to go unrewarded.â€ It had, but now itâ€™s all gone. Over the side of this â€œboatâ€ and into the blue waves of a vast body of water I couldnâ€™t have ever begun to imagine actually existed.
Iâ€™ve seen the pond at the â€œduckâ€ park, where there are just about a katrillion birds and bugs that swarm around the water and even swim around in its dark currents. But, this is completely different. This is a world of water that tosses our â€œboatâ€ thingy around, and seems to spray a salty smell into my nose and upset my belly.
Since we first got on board, Iâ€™ve managed to lose all of my tasty treats (luckily, I didnâ€™t bring my special one aboard- if you know what I mean) in a constant and unstoppable sensation that filled my belly with upsets. Usually, Iâ€™d have to eat something really bad to be this sick, but everything that ended up in my bowl smelled just fine. Nope, itâ€™s definitely the rolling of this very big and very upset â€œoceanâ€ as the old man has dubbed the water.
Iâ€™m pretty sure that weâ€™re safe, especially since the old man took the time to strap us in to these cushioning devices. Iâ€™ve taken a few bites out of mine, but it turned out that it simply tasted like the couch cushions, which I never really liked. But, theyâ€™re supposed to keep us from getting lost, so I left it alone.
At this point, the old man is struggling with a stick that is tied to the ocean. Heâ€™s been fighting it for what seems like a dogâ€™s year, and even his fellow two-legged companions have come to his aid. Everyoneâ€™s paws on the same stick, it almost appears that theyâ€™d be fighting each other rather than the water. But, seeing as how the ocean appears so very angry at our presence, Iâ€™d have to say that theyâ€™ve teamed up against it. Even Iâ€™ve jumped in to play a part. I hold the old manâ€™s leg in place and push back towards the boatâ€™s cabin, afraid to let him go and be lost to the water. I can feel him step back, so I push harder against him, forcing him closer to the wall of the boat. Thatâ€™s when I feel the salt and wetness of the oceanâ€™s water spray me as another creature joins me on deck. Iâ€™ve seen them at Izzyâ€™s house, small creatures that float around in a glass box. This one is as big as me and is seemingly a little out of its place. The creature flops around on the deck while all the other men stare at it in wonder.
The others simply look at each other, almost as if they never believed theyâ€™d actually be here right now at this very moment. Or maybe theyâ€™ve just never seen a fish before. Well, maybe theyâ€™d just better go pay Debbie and Izzy a visit if they want to see what it looks like beneath an ocean of dark waves the next time they take a dog out onto the ocean. And since none of them will, itâ€™s up to me. I nudge the flopping creature back towards the edge of the boat and send it out to sea. I donâ€™t want to have anything else to do with something that smells as fishy as that thing did!
Jason DuronÂ is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories.Â Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky give you a chance to see daily life from a â€œdogâ€™s eye viewâ€ and share in their thoughts.Â Please enjoy, and we hope that youâ€™ll feel free to comment and give us insight into your dogâ€™s very own “rocky” adventures.