It had started out as a really nice day. The old man and I had made our way out to the park for a nice walk. The sun was shining and the breeze was cool and everything was nice and pleasant. Even the birds were singing about how nice it was on this fine day.
I bobbed along, sniffing the occasional patch of grass which tickled my whiskers. There was no rush. There was plenty of time and we planned on using it all. Occasionally, the old man would sit down on a bench and look around to see what could be seen. I did the same. And we did a whole lot of nothing together. It was fun.
Eventually, we happened upon the heart of the park, where people moved about along with their younglings as they played games and did people things. There was even a group that was eating on the soft grass, though the old man assured me that we could not join.
My interest was peaked when another pup showed up on the scene. I was the only four-legged rascal walking about the area, so it was a nice change of things to find another ready to play. I told her my name and she told me hers, and then we had to race. I don’t know why, but he had to. It’s just the way things work.
Just a simple race. It was to the big tree with all the bushes and then right back here. I was fast, but breakfast was still slowing me down so this might be a challenge. Not to much of a challenge though. Just had to throw that in there for self-confidence.
I dashed forward, leaving the pup behind. No ready-set-go to wait for, since that wasn’t in the rules established. Perhaps the pup will learn that lesson quickly. One always has to establish the rules before agreeing to the race.
Around the tree I raced, my paws moving swiftly and steadily as if they knew exactly where to step in order to gain the edge. I showed off my expertise, grinning as I maintained the lead. And just as I rounded the tree, I found something.
A trap. Someone had laid out a cleaver trap. It looked just like the rest of the grass, but it wasn’t. It was water. And not the nice kind of water. It was muddy water. I splashed down and my paws dug into the soft goosh at the bottom of the slimy puddle.
The mud clung to my fur as I emerged from the puddle. It was so sticky and smelly. I had surely lost the race, but on top of that, I’d also managed to fall into a pit of the muddiest mud I’ve ever smelled.
I shook it off and wobbled back to the old man where the other pup was already waiting. The young pup was grinning and wagging her fuzzy tail, sort of like she knew what had happened. Cleaver girl. However, when I arrived on scene to explain my situation to the old man, I think I scared him.
My friend gave me a look of fear and sort of herded me along the pathway. I knew where we were going as I muddied along, clumps of slimy stuff falling from my fur. It was bath time. And honestly, it was the first time in my life that I was actually sort of happy it was.
Jason Duron is a short story writer and author of several fiction stories. Curious and lovable as dogs can be, the Adventures of Rocky, Nixi and Dante 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 adventures.