I popped out this afternoon to see what was going on. My friends came over earlier, so weâ€™ve been busy playing a game of tag inside. But the situation for our companions has been a little different. In and out theyâ€™ve been moving. I once even caught a whiff of something yummy, but it went out the back door as well. And thatâ€™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, itâ€™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 Martyâ€™s companions (whom we have dubbed â€œthe joggersâ€ since theyâ€™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 Iâ€™m aware, that device is only used during the summer. But when thereâ€™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. Whatâ€™s in the container goes into the cooker and itâ€™s closed again. But that part doesnâ€™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.
â€œI want to see what it is,â€ Marty whispered. â€œIt smells so good.â€
â€œNo!â€ Izzy warned. â€œWait until theyâ€™re not looking.â€
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.
â€œGo,â€ 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.
â€œCome back, hurry!â€ I yipped as quietly as possible. But Marty wasnâ€™t listening. Iâ€™d have to take action quickly or weâ€™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 wouldnâ€™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.
â€œRocky, theyâ€™re coming!â€ Izzy announced, but I didnâ€™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 wasnâ€™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.
â€œOh well,â€ Izzy said in a disheartened tone. â€œIt was good while it lasted. Just wish I had gotten a taste.â€
â€œDonâ€™t you worry about that,â€ I said confidently. â€œEvery time we eat outside, our people are always messy eaters. Just wait and see.â€
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 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.