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.
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.
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.