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The Adventures of Rocky

Sep 26, 2011

This afternoon has indeed been very interesting. There’s water outside, fallen from the sky, and it makes everything wet. Normally it might be fun to play in, but the sky flashes and the sound of something terrible fills the air.

Everything is okay though, as my buddy is here to keep me safe. He sits on his bench, playing the old piano. On occasion, I too find myself hitting the keys with my paws in an attempt to mimic my old friend, but it never comes out quite right. Today, I do not join him on the bench though, as I’ve found a nice spot below his feet so that I can hear his breathing and familiar heartbeat, assuring me that he is close.

In his years, my old friend has seemingly lost a bit of touch with his own paws, their agility seemingly becoming less steady, just like his heart. But he continues on, like nothing else bothers him. He’s a tough guy, still thinks he can do everything on his own, but I can tell he’s having trouble. This comes especially to mind when I think about my own daily needs. He can’t exactly run like I can, and even though he picks up a third leg to help him, he still has trouble keeping up with my four.

Aside from getting into mischief, I am really a good pup. Like earlier today, even though it was raining, I slipped outside and grabbed the bag that my buddy keeps his newspaper in. I didn’t want him walking outside in the rain. Last time, he slipped down the sidewalk and fell in the grass. He seemed more angry than hurt though, but that’s probably for the better.

Suddenly my friend looks at me and starts making his funny sounds again. I never did figure out why they do that, but it always makes me laugh.

“What?” I asked to tease him.

Then he finally uses a word familiar to me. “Shoes,” he says. I know what those are and when he says that, it usually means he wants me to go get them, so I do. I scamper down the hallway, to the closet. He keeps three pairs of shoes here, one for the garden, one for walking outside, and one for walking inside. I pick the inside pair, since it’s too wet for us to go walking. But when I bring them to him, he shakes his head.

“No, outside shoes,” he says to me this time. I know better, as it is far too wet and dangerous for him to be walking around outside on the slippery grass. I tell him “no” a few times, but he insists, so being the good pup that I am, I get them for him.

After he struggles with them for a moment, he manages to get the shoes on his paws and slowly stands up.

“Rocky, outside,” he says again. I guess he wants me to do my business now. I run to the back door because the patio deck is covered, and my old friend can stay dry. It’s a little further than the front door, and he knows this. He glances at that one, then back to me. I call him to me a few times before the old chap makes a decision. He makes his way to the door, and pushes down on the handle. I can do it too, but my little legs are too short, but perhaps I’ll soon find something to give me a boost.

The door opens up and I spring out into the back yard.

It doesn’t take me long to do my business, and I’m ready to get out of the wet. But, my old friend seems to have trouble of his own. That lever thing sits in his hand now, and the door is still closed. He looks at me and makes some funny sounds. I know exactly what to do.

Around the house, and through the doggy door, I find my way back inside. The lever on the other side is still on. I know what to do. I jump. Once, twice, and on the fourth try, I clamp my teeth around it and the door opens.

My friend looks at me in wonder and tells me what a great friend I am. Then he scratches behind my left ear, my very favorite spot, as my leg moves to agree.

Author:

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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