Oh my dog! Oh my dog! Oh my dog! I’m going towards the car. “Where are we going? Where are we going?”
She opens the trunk for me. “Hey, I demand to know where we’re going!”
“Denver, jump in,” she tells me. I jump in. She called my bluff.
I can’t stand still I’m so excited. My tail’s all cramped up back here, so my body starts wagging side to side instead. I try telling her that I’m excited. She tells me to be quiet. I don’t think she understands, so I tell her again. She tells me to be quiet. I start smacking the walls with my tail. She tells me to be quiet. I pee on the floor. One way or another, she’ll understand.
Wow, wow, wow. We’re at the beach! Why didn’t she say so? I love the beach. The beach is the best. So many things to smell, to pee on, to eat… Sometimes I find things to do all three on. I really like those things. I try telling her I’m excited to find those things. She tells me to be quiet.
We’re walking on the beach. She grabs a stick. “Hey, what are you doing with that stick?” I ask her. She just shakes it in my face.
“Hey, I want that.” She shakes it in my face.
“Hey! I really want that!” She throws it away.
“AUGGGGHH!!! Why would you throw away a stick like that?” I find the stick and bring it back. What a fool. Gave away a perfectly good stick. I show it to her. “Look what you gave up. You gave up a great stick.”
She looks at it and grabs for it. What? No, she can’t decide if she likes it now. It’s mine. She grabs for it. I growl. We fight. I win. It’s mine. “Drop it,” she says. I drop it. She has a way with words.
She has her own giant board, though. This one she knows she likes. Never lets me bite it. Taunts me with it, but never lets me bite it. Throws it in the water and swims with it herself. It’s frustrating. She sucks at fetch. Takes hours to come back to shore. Whatever. This was what I was waiting for. I tear across the beach, frolicking in my freedom. No more commands. No more disapproving eyes. Free to do whatever I want. I look for something to eat.
I see a nice girl up ahead. She wants to pet me, so I steer wide. But then I catch a whiff of salami. She has a salami sandwich. I’m running. Saliva is overflowing from my mouth and on its trail is the girl and her dad, throwing sticks as they go. What’s with people throwing away good sticks? They just lost a sandwich, I figure they should cut the losses there.
Eventually I start to choke on the food and have to stop. People are always getting in my way. Why can’t a dog eat in peace? Why am I always getting told what to do and then what not to do? Oh, what I would give to have endless freedom.
I catch another scent… Burgers. And I’m starving. I just ate, but I’m starving. I begin to bound towards the source when something cracks behind me. Spinning frantically, I relax when I see it’s just Diego—some Chihuahua from Mexico. They decided to give him a real original name for a Mexican Chihuahua. “Where go you?” Diego asks. Only dog I’ve met with an accent.
“There’s burgers over there and I’m hungry.”
“You always hungry. Stomach get you big trouble some day. Bad to steal. They good people. Feed you lots. No need for more.”
This dog. His owners should’ve put a cape on him instead of a collar. “How else am I going to get real food? I’m tired of kibble that ‘tastes like chicken.’ When am I able to eat chicken?”
Diego lays down in the sun. “You get chicken when you want, hombre. But you catch. No steal. They give lots, bad to steal more. They good to us. You see.”
I bristle. “How good are they? They tell me to be quiet. They tell me to sit. I do a lot for them. And in return I get what? A bone?”
“Amor.”
“What?”
“Amor.”
“What in dog’s name is that?”
“I don’t know English word. But is powerful. Very good thing. Feel better than belly full of food.”
I’m tired of listening to Diego. My appetite is calling for my attention now. “You can keep your amor, I’m going to get more food.”
“Remember, perro. No steal.”
I’m walking through the forest. Alone at last. I don’t need Diego’s advice. I don’t need people. I don’t need anyone. I remember hearing how this dog, Buck, went off running with the wild dogs. So can I. I’m alone, like I wanted, walking through the forest. I hear rustling above. It’s a squirrel. Finally, some prey to hunt. I run, barking up to the base of the tree. “Hey, I want to eat you.”
The squirrel looks down at me. Starts to chatter something. Makes about as much sense as Diego. I call out louder. “Hey! I really want to eat you.” The squirrel begins to chatter louder. Why won’t he come down? I look around for help.
Ow. What’s happening? Ow! Why is he throwing pinecones at me? “Stop! Hey, stop! I’m trying to eat you.” But the squirrel keeps throwing them, and they hurt, and it’s embarrassing, and I’m alone, and now I’m running scared because I’m in the forest alone and lost and there’s a squirrel throwing pine cones at me and I’m still hungry.
I burst onto the beach in a frenzy. The burgers are near, but I only smell them faintly, as if they were some dream I awoke from and no longer care about and it’s already forgotten. All I care about is her. Where is she? Why did I ever leave her? Oh, I should’ve given her the stick sooner. She deserves a good stick. She’s so good to me. All those belly rubs after a full meal of kibble—it’s always a full meal of kibble. I wanted to stop to get her a really nice stick, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop. I have to see her right now.
I’m in front of the water, looking and sniffing to see if she’s come back from her long game of fetch yet. Did I miss her? Maybe she left me like I left her. How could she do that? Didn’t she know I would come crawling back, miserable and ashamed? I miss her.
Wait… Is that her? I’m running up to her now, yelling out my heart’s confessions. “I love you, I miss you, you’re everything to me. I hate myself for leaving you, I just want you back.” But it’s not her. It’s some other lady who’s also wearing a black outfit and carrying a big board. I stare at her and she sees how disappointed I am. She offers a hand as consolation, but I turn away, feeling sick. I’m disgusted with myself. I had something so good and I ran away from it. I’m more of a fool than those people throwing away perfect sticks. She was better than a stick. She was the perfect friend. I howl to the afternoon sun for being so bright on such a dark day.
“Denver.” The waves were playing tricks on me. Calling me like sirens to drown myself in my sorrows. “Denver! Hey, Denver, come on boy. Time to go.”
Oh my dog! Oh my dog! Oh my dog! It’s really her. She’s walking towards me and I sprint into her open arms, knocking her down. I forget everything I want to say. Instead, I lick her face and her hands and her face again, wiping up all the salt. But I’m not thinking of food, I’m thinking about her. My heart is too full of love to think of an empty stomach.
“Denver, you handsome devil, what’s gotten into you? You must be starving or something. You deserve a big bowl of kibble—maybe with a little treat of turkey. How does that sound?”
I love her. I shower her with more kisses and licks and saliva at the thought of turkey. Always, always, always lick the hand that picks up your poop.
