Sunday, May 13, 2012

Rocky (A story)

The hot alcohol stung my bloody leg.  A soft voice whispered soothing words into my silky black ears.  I slowly raised my head.  I was sprawled out on a fluffy pillow.  Food and murky water was set in front of me.  I suspected more medicine.

I had been a stray dog all my life.  I had been cut very badly by a sharp-edged rock.  Somehow, a boy found me.  He has taken me to his territory and helped me a great deal.

The boy has been talking to his people and decided to call me Rocky.  The name must mean he is planning to keep me.  Today my boy tied a rope with my name on it around my neck!



Having my boy means I have to follow rules.  My #1 rule is to be friendly.

One day, I was doing my rounds when I heard footsteps.  I raised my head.  Walking toward our territory was a golden dog.  Behind it was a person.  My mind started racing.  That dog had intruder written all over it.  I let out a muffled warning bark.

The golden dog looked quizzically at its boy.  “No Bells,” he said.  Bells sat back on her haunches and whined.  “Oh, all right,“ he said, “but be careful.”  Bells slowly approached, her feet softly patting the earth beneath her feet.  I let her walk into my territory.

She came to a halt in front of me, gave a yip and bowed down in front of me.  “He must want to play,”  I thought.  So, we played until she had to go home.  Turns out, Bells and her boy were friends of my boy.  And now they were my friends, too.


One humid fall day, my boy kissed me on the nose and with the word, “Bye,” he ran down our narrow gravel road.  I whined and tried to follow him.  Unfortunately, he looked back.  When he saw me he said sternly, “go home!”  So I waited for about 3 hours.  Finally when the sun was shining through the trees in hot rays he came running home.  

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.  “I was at school.”  I growled. “He musn’t go to school,” I thought.  

Next time I will follow him.


To be continued...

Grace Stewart

No comments:

Post a Comment