| General Fiction posted May 23, 2021 |
  |
A different point of view
It's a dogs life
by Brad Bennett
Oh, no! Master's got the hose out. He's pouring water into the tub. They're going to bathe me. Don't they know I'm not a water dog? I'm a field dog. I don't go running into the water for birds. I hunt them in their hiding places and flush them out. I'm a pointer dog.
What’ll I do?
I know. I’ll go over and hide and sulk, which will show them I really, really don’t want this.
(Ten minutes later)
Well, this is just great! Now I'm sopping wet like a drowned cat–a good metaphor. I'm insulted, humiliated, and abused. Now they're standing around laughing at me. How shameful. I'll give 'em my saddest, most hurt look. What’s this? They’re laughing even more.
I’ll fix 'em; here goes.
SHAKING IT OFF, SHAKING IT OFF! Hah, they’re running for cover. They're still laughing? Oh well, whatever makes 'em happy.
Now, they’re back in the house, leaving me out here to dry. They drench me for no reason; then, they leave me abandoned in the yard. Okay, I'll sulk out here alone. Why does Master humiliate me like this? I try to fit in, but telling them my anxieties is frustrating. They utter all these strange sounds back to me.
They can’t interact as we dogs do. Take that little shepherd from next door. Two sniffs in the butt, a quick once over, and we’ve said everything we need to know. But humans babble on for hours, making mouth noises. Yeah, I know a few of their words––“sit, heel, roll over"–– that's the stupidest one. I humor them. They seem to like it.
I try to talk back to them and form their expressions, but let's get real here. I have no language or tongue for speaking; I make a few frustrated woofing sounds. They laugh. I abide.
(Later that day)
What's this? Master is coming out of the house with my leash. All right–– a favorite time of the day! I'll give him a sign of approval,
"Woof, pant, pant." Gotta dance around a bit, too; give 'em him my most exciting tail-wiggling treatment.
(Not far from the house in a large open park.)
Ahhh. All these smells, I gotta sort them all out. Hmm, a Labrador peed here. “Snuff.” Oh yeah! Here's a dachshund trail to that tree; treasures are abounding. Must be twenty or thirty dogs through here.
“Snuff, snortle.”
Here's that cute poodle's scent; gotta sniff that trail. “Snuff, snuff, snort.”
Darn it! Master is pulling my leash; gotta move on.
Hey, we’re going out of the park and across a field. We haven't been down this way for a long time. Great! Thanks, Master. I'll give him my happiest tail wag.
(In the grassy open field.)
Dang it, I was hoping we could wait for a minute, but he wouldn't stop and let me analyze this landscape. He doesn't understand. I'm in my element here–tall grass just like the moors of my ancestors. My long heritage of breeding and senses has attuned me to this environment.
"Snuff, snuff." I'm in heaven here.
This is my breeding. I can hear every bird, animal, and bug within miles, but it's the pheasants I'm after. I know that bird well. I will find it and flush it out. I am the king of all that dwell here.
(Further into the field)
All right! Master has taken off my leash. I'm free to roam, be what they bred me to be. Hoorah! I can run and leap! Yes! Jump up in the tall grass and hunt my prey. That's how I got my name–English springer spaniel. Leaping is what I'm all about. God, I love this.
"Woof, snort snuff." Thanks, Master.
(In an area where horses have been.)
What’s this?
"Snuff, snuff."
Is this what I think it is? Yes! An enormous pile of fresh, lain horse crap. Oh God, I'm in dog heaven. "Snort, snuff." I can use this manure to hide my presence. Then, I can sneak up on those pheasants, and the horse manure will mask my scent. Perfect!
Ahhh, I’m rolling in horse-dropping euphoria. It’s all over my fur coat. I’m wallowing in it now, covering my body. Oh great, here comes Master. I gotta show him my new creation. He'll love it!
"Woof, woof!" Hey, Master, look at me. Let's get us a rooster now!
Oh, oh! He doesn't look too happy. I'll have to shut my ears down. He's yelling so loud it's hurting my super hearing. I thought he’d like this nice fresh pile I found. I covered myself perfectly with a beautiful hunting coat. What did I do wrong?
(Walking back to the house on the leash.)
I don't understand these humans. They go to great lengths to breed us dogs to act a certain way, and then they punish us for doing so.
There’s the house up ahead. My Master's mate is there. Oh, oh, she's mad at him. Now I'm baffled. Master is saying something to her. She's looking at me–she bursts out laughing.
What’s this? They’re bringing out that washtub again. Oh, no! Is this a repeat of this morning?
I have to say, right here and now, these humans are a strange, bewildered lot. They bathe you for no reason, take you out and introduce you to a nice pile of horseshit, and then rewash you?
It's a good thing they have us dogs to keep them entertained. That must be what we're here for.
What’ll I do?
I know. I’ll go over and hide and sulk, which will show them I really, really don’t want this.
(Ten minutes later)
Well, this is just great! Now I'm sopping wet like a drowned cat–a good metaphor. I'm insulted, humiliated, and abused. Now they're standing around laughing at me. How shameful. I'll give 'em my saddest, most hurt look. What’s this? They’re laughing even more.
I’ll fix 'em; here goes.
SHAKING IT OFF, SHAKING IT OFF! Hah, they’re running for cover. They're still laughing? Oh well, whatever makes 'em happy.
Now, they’re back in the house, leaving me out here to dry. They drench me for no reason; then, they leave me abandoned in the yard. Okay, I'll sulk out here alone. Why does Master humiliate me like this? I try to fit in, but telling them my anxieties is frustrating. They utter all these strange sounds back to me.
They can’t interact as we dogs do. Take that little shepherd from next door. Two sniffs in the butt, a quick once over, and we’ve said everything we need to know. But humans babble on for hours, making mouth noises. Yeah, I know a few of their words––“sit, heel, roll over"–– that's the stupidest one. I humor them. They seem to like it.
I try to talk back to them and form their expressions, but let's get real here. I have no language or tongue for speaking; I make a few frustrated woofing sounds. They laugh. I abide.
(Later that day)
What's this? Master is coming out of the house with my leash. All right–– a favorite time of the day! I'll give him a sign of approval,
"Woof, pant, pant." Gotta dance around a bit, too; give 'em him my most exciting tail-wiggling treatment.
(Not far from the house in a large open park.)
Ahhh. All these smells, I gotta sort them all out. Hmm, a Labrador peed here. “Snuff.” Oh yeah! Here's a dachshund trail to that tree; treasures are abounding. Must be twenty or thirty dogs through here.
“Snuff, snortle.”
Here's that cute poodle's scent; gotta sniff that trail. “Snuff, snuff, snort.”
Darn it! Master is pulling my leash; gotta move on.
Hey, we’re going out of the park and across a field. We haven't been down this way for a long time. Great! Thanks, Master. I'll give him my happiest tail wag.
(In the grassy open field.)
Dang it, I was hoping we could wait for a minute, but he wouldn't stop and let me analyze this landscape. He doesn't understand. I'm in my element here–tall grass just like the moors of my ancestors. My long heritage of breeding and senses has attuned me to this environment.
"Snuff, snuff." I'm in heaven here.
This is my breeding. I can hear every bird, animal, and bug within miles, but it's the pheasants I'm after. I know that bird well. I will find it and flush it out. I am the king of all that dwell here.
(Further into the field)
All right! Master has taken off my leash. I'm free to roam, be what they bred me to be. Hoorah! I can run and leap! Yes! Jump up in the tall grass and hunt my prey. That's how I got my name–English springer spaniel. Leaping is what I'm all about. God, I love this.
"Woof, snort snuff." Thanks, Master.
(In an area where horses have been.)
What’s this?
"Snuff, snuff."
Is this what I think it is? Yes! An enormous pile of fresh, lain horse crap. Oh God, I'm in dog heaven. "Snort, snuff." I can use this manure to hide my presence. Then, I can sneak up on those pheasants, and the horse manure will mask my scent. Perfect!
Ahhh, I’m rolling in horse-dropping euphoria. It’s all over my fur coat. I’m wallowing in it now, covering my body. Oh great, here comes Master. I gotta show him my new creation. He'll love it!
"Woof, woof!" Hey, Master, look at me. Let's get us a rooster now!
Oh, oh! He doesn't look too happy. I'll have to shut my ears down. He's yelling so loud it's hurting my super hearing. I thought he’d like this nice fresh pile I found. I covered myself perfectly with a beautiful hunting coat. What did I do wrong?
(Walking back to the house on the leash.)
I don't understand these humans. They go to great lengths to breed us dogs to act a certain way, and then they punish us for doing so.
There’s the house up ahead. My Master's mate is there. Oh, oh, she's mad at him. Now I'm baffled. Master is saying something to her. She's looking at me–she bursts out laughing.
What’s this? They’re bringing out that washtub again. Oh, no! Is this a repeat of this morning?
I have to say, right here and now, these humans are a strange, bewildered lot. They bathe you for no reason, take you out and introduce you to a nice pile of horseshit, and then rewash you?
It's a good thing they have us dogs to keep them entertained. That must be what we're here for.
Short story writing contest entry
 Recognized |
His name was Mandy
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2025. Brad Bennett All rights reserved.
Brad Bennett has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
