Dog

A story/event told through the point of view of a dog

Yawn and stretch.  I must have fallen asleep sunbathing again.  Got an itch. Got an itch.  Scratch. Scratch.  Scratch.  Shake it off.  Much better.  Let’s walk over to the window and see what’s happening outside.  Look left. All is accounted for since the horses are still out on pasture grazing.  Look right.  Wait a minute. What’s that?  There’s some dust rolling up in the distance.  I hear something.  Car. Car.  Bark. Bark.  Someone?  Anyone?  A car is coming!  Wait.  I know that car.  Oh yes, yes.  It’s lady master.  She’s home.  She’s home.  I should get the ball.  She loves to throw the ball for me.  Oh I’m so excited.  She’s been gone all day.  It’s been years since I last saw her.  I swore she said she wasn’t going to be gone long.  But it’s been years.  Years.  Oh, the car is stopping.  The car is stopping! 

            I got the ball now.  I see her digging in the car for something.  Maybe she brought me a treat or a new ball.  Wait, that’s odd.  She seems to have master’s bag in her hand.  The small sack-like one with the handles and weird smells.  Smells of strange animals that I don’t know.  Smells of people I haven’t met.  And bad smells, bitter nose burning smells.  The smells that make you back away slowly.  The smells that are not for eating or investigating further.  I have learned to stay away from this bag.

            She’s walking up the driveway now, getting closer to the door.  I wait eagerly for that wonderful greeting, bouncing up and down on my paws, ball in mouth and ready to play.  Something is wrong.  She has her head down and a black baseball cap pulled low on her head.  It looks like she is wearing sunglasses too.  Usually, she greats me with a smile if she sees me as she’s walking up.  Maybe she is just tired from her long journey.  Yeah that’s it.  She pauses briefly, bringing up her human paw to wipe away something from her face.  She lets out a deep sigh and then opens the door.

            She brushes past me and carries the bag over to the kitchen table and sets it down.  Why is she not greeting me?  I trot over to her and wag my tail as fast as I can to grab her attention but she is distracted.  She is over in the drawer looking for something.  I let out a whimper through my ball clenched teeth.  She doesn’t even look up.  I drop the ball and let out a single bark.  “Not now, Duke” she says while still digging through the drawer.  “Why do we never have any working pens in this damn house?”

            I decide to go for the forced approach.  I walk up and start nudging my muzzle into her free hand.  She instinctively starts patting my head and scratching behind my ears.  “I know buddy,” she says “But I need to find something.  There it is.  Finally.”  She pulls out the pen and tests it on an old piece of mail scattered on the table.  “And it actually writes”.  I see her pull out some pages from the bag.  She must be studying them or reading them or something because she keeps flipping back and forth through the pages.  Finally she folds them up and scribbles something on the backside.  A wet droplet falls from her face onto the page. 

            She then gets up and leaves the folded up pages propped up on the table.  This is my opportunity.  I nudge the ball across the floor so it rolls right up and brushes against her foot.  She just needs some encouragement.  Playing fetch with me always makes her smile.  But she doesn’t even acknowledge the ball.  I mean it is right there, this wonderful and glorious ball.  She grabs master’s bag and brushes past me, instinctively patting me on the side.  I c**k my head and watch her walk down the long hallway with her head down.  She turns into the bedroom.

            I decide that maybe we will play a little later.  She definitely seems like she is up to something.  Maybe I should investigate.  I really hate that bag but now I’m wondering if there is something in there that I need to know about.  I trot down the hallway after lady master. 

            She’s sitting on the bed now and has the bag open next to her.  She is constantly rooting through the bag and pulling out more and more objects.  There are a few strange vials that contain weird smelling liquids.  She also pulls out a few syringes.  I know that are syringes because master uses them when he is giving me or my friends on the farm medicine.  She is sticking different syringes in each of the bottles and drawing up specified amounts.  I think she is also reading something off of a sheet of paper.  I walk over to her and sit at her feet, hoping to get a better glimpse at what she might be doing.  I let out a small whimper to get her attention.  She finally looks up at me.  “Duke, you’ve been a good boy.  You remember that okay.  I love you and you are a good boy.”

            Well of course I know she loves me.  I always love being told I’m a good boy.  It makes me feel as if I’ve accomplished my goal as a dog, enjoy life and please the masters.  Lady master then picks up a syringe and taps her leg a few times before jamming the needle into her leg and pushing the plunger.  Something is definitely wrong here.  I start barking at her, trying to get her to move away from that bag and those smells.  She continues to ignore me.  I reach up to the bed and grab the bag in my teeth, throwing it to the ground.  “Duke, drop it.  BAD DOG.  Get out of here,” she scolds as lady master grabs my collar, dragging me from the room.  So throws me into the hallway and slams the door.  How could she do this to me?  I need to be in there with her.  Something is very wrong.  I need to help.  I start scratching at the door.  Scratch.  Scratch.  Scratch.  I lean against the door trying to get a better idea as to what is going on inside.  I hear some shuffling and then a thud followed by silence.  Too much silence.  Silence followed by more silence.

            It feels like forever and a day.  I am still stuck outside in the hallway and there is not a single sound coming from the room inside.  My ears suddenly perk up.  I hear master’s vehicle pulling up in the driveway.  I run down the hallway and start barking at the front door, trying to get some urgency from the master.  He steps out of his truck and waves up at me.  I bark with even more urgency and start throwing myself at the door, hoping he’ll understand.  Finally he gets it.  Master starts running up toward the door.  “What is it Duke?  What’s wrong boy?”

            I bolt down the hallway and start barking at the door and scratching it over and over again.  Master reaches the bedroom door and opens it.  We both rush through the door.  Master drops to the floor and cradles lady master in his arms.  I nudge her hand but her hand is limp.  It doesn’t respond like normal.  It doesn’t reach up to pet me or scratch behind my ears.  Master is crying now, screaming and crying, confused as much as I am.  I see the syringes that lady master had previously drawn up, all strewn about the floor, with all the contents missing.  I bring the bag to master so he understands.  He sees it and immediately jumps up and calls someone, saying it’s an emergency and to get here as soon as possible.  I curl up next to her body on the floor and lay my head on her lap, just like I always do, only this time, she never places her hand on me. 

Author's Note

Looking for any feedback