Prompt: Write a story from the POV (point of view) of a pet or a loyal companion.
Woof Woof is Not What I am Saying
A beautiful, heartwarming sight to see. A boy and his dog walking together side by side on the tree-lined boulevard. The dog stops, looking up to the boy and he speaks in English with a slight British accent, “I have to pee. Please take me to the nearest tree.” The boy readily complies by barking “woof, woof, bow wow.” This is just another typical conversation between a boy and a dog. Or is it?
I can almost see the look on your face. A talking dog? A talking dog who speaks English? Ok, let’s not get too riled up. If our Creator God can make Balaam’s donkey talk in the bible, then why not a simple dog like me? Do you remember the story about Balaam? Here is how the story goes:
(The) time when the donkey saw the angel, it lay down under Balaam. In a fit of rage Balaam beat the animal again with his staff. Then the Lord gave the donkey the ability to speak. “What have I done to you that deserves your beating me three times?” it asked Balaam.
“You have made me look like a fool!” Balaam shouted. “If I had a sword with me, I would kill you!”
“But I am the same donkey you have ridden all your life,” the donkey answered. “Have I ever done anything like this before?”
“No,” Balaam admitted.
Then the Lord opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the roadway with a drawn sword in his hand. Balaam bowed his head and fell face down on the ground before him. (1)
This was no fairy tale for Balaam. He was such a jerk. The donkey was only trying to warn the dude. For you skeptics, God does make animals speak and I just happen to be another one. I am still wondering why, however; I’ve been gifted with the power of speech. Now on this occasion, with the help of my companion, aka my master named Billy, I am chronicling my adventures and experiences to you. Quite likely is this what I was meant to do? My canine cronies refer to me as the People Whisperer. Billy knows if this story goes viral despite my not so glowing description of him, we will become rich and famous. I’d write it myself but I have been unable to learn the mechanics of using a pen or typewriter with my pedicured paws. I finally found a color and sharpness that matches my overall aesthetic, and I dare not mess it up. It wasn’t cheap.
I love it when people say, “it’s a dog’s life.” It’s my chance to set them straight. They really don’t get it. A dog’s life is not immersed in brutality to survive. My life, and for that matter any dog’s life, is really a breeze. And I love breezes, especially when I stick my head out the car window. It’s a taste of heaven to sniff all those unusual smells while getting my snout bathed in a cool breeze. Maybe dogs of olden times worked their hindquarters off but not us dogs of the modern era. We have trained our so-called masters very well. I get fed every day, once a day maybe even twice when Billy forgets.Guess who has to pick up my poop?Heh, heh it sure ain’t me holding the pooper scooper and plastic bag.
Since my master, Billy, is a young lad, I have trained him in the way that I would like him to go contrary to his parents. I am a master of the begging arts. At a moment’s notice I can create a sad doggie face with a furrowed brow, downturned mouth and eyes coupled with slow whimpering breathing. It gets Billy every time and I get what I want. My master tried this with his parents and eventually suckered a new bike out of them. They soon got wise to him and now the ruse doesn’t work. When he first heard me speak in actual words, the kid thought he was dreaming. Then when he could not figure it out, he determined I was an alien. Geesh! The minds of these kids are full of garbage from television and now the internet.
Yes, I know about the internet. I do a podcast for all the local dogs and their masters on the social platforms TALKIT, BARKIT. Billy helps to set up my electronics, the lights, the whole kitten caboodle. Speaking of kittens and cats, I am not particularly fond of them. Nonetheless, they do have a purpose in this world. They keep the surplus rat population down. Sorry, I digressed. I caught a scent in the air, like that of a cat.
My listeners, to the following of one hundred strong, tune in weekly to hear about my suggestions for pet care, grooming, and my playful antics with my master, Billy. I know one hundred followers are not a lot but I have to rely on Billy to hype my podcast by word of mouth to his friends and schoolmates. Billy and I decided that getting family in the mix would present all kinds of problems. They would want a share of any proceeds we would get. I am a selfish pooch, and Billy is, well just Billy, a kid who does anything I tell him to do.
I use my people whispering skills for the benefit of all dog-kind. I really am a unique breed, possibly one of a kind. Let’s face it though I am not pure bred and certainly not of good standing like a Siberian Husky (although I still am selfish). I fear pure breeds lack something significant in their gene pool, like common sense. Rather, I am a mixture of mutts; nothing about my looks says anything differently. I look just like any multi breed dog. I like it that way. I have such charm and poise it makes me so adorable. My appearance helps me with my inconspicuous approach to other people. No intimidating canine teeth or a monstrous, hulking body. I inwardly chuckle when I catch them off guard expressing myself in an accented diction. I can actually speak words and converse with them when I feel the time is appropriate. I can use a southern drawl, a midwestern accent, or New England accent, or BBC English, or a Cockney accent and certainly more. I like to consider myself a linguistical Lassie (the dog, not a Scottish girl.) And by the way, I am a male stud. If any of you reading this happen to know of a freelancing bit… (sorry). Unsuspectingly, a hormonal surge caused me to ramble in my thoughts and words.
To this day I abhor veterinarians and their diabolical ways. I refuse to part ways with my masculinity. Cretins would call this being neutered. I am a gifted four-legged doggy who aspires to share his genetic talent of articulating words outside the pathetic realm of woof, woof.No one is going to mess with my gene factory. No one.
Now, let me share a few more interesting facts about my life. I have some short stories to tell you about showcasing my talent to the world around me.
One time I took aside a little girl, Daisy, who was about Billy’s age. She was giddy about adorning her Dachshund with all kinds of lacy ribbon and plastic flowers. I said to her “Easy girl, your Dachshund will not be too happy.”
After her initial surprise of hearing me speak, I gave her some good canine suggestions. “A word of advice. Your Dachshund is a male. Dress him with boy stuff like a sports cap or a colored bandana. Gender identity is important even for dogs.” The little girl never realized her mistake until I lovingly reprimanded her with a gentle bite on her cheek. She got the message. Her Dachshund now is proud of his “hot diggity dog” look.
There’s another people expression that “gets my goat” ha, ha. It’s a “dog eats dog world.” What? Are those people who say this nuts? I would never resort to cannibalism and neither would any of my compatriots of other breeds! The only meat I like is chicken and cow. I avoid pig because the house I live in is kosher.I am sure “man eats man” would be more appropriate given mankind’s history at fighting tooth and nail for any stinking thing. It usually ends up in someone getting hurt or dies. Oh, I get so riled up at how foolish human kind can get. Dogs rule! Or at least we should. Unlike humans, we would not segregate dogs based on breeds or hair types or size. For the most part all dogs speak the same language, although I am pretty sure I am unique.
If dogs ruled the world, we would have the humans do more running in the yards, in the forests and on the beaches. We would have them chasing after frisbees catching them in their teeth. Personally, I think chasing after small varmints like rats, rabbits and squirrels would provide good aerobic activity. But I would avoid having people chase after cars. Few dogs know how to drive cars anyway. Somehow, I feel if given an opportunity to learn dogs would be safer drivers than humans. Why? We are never in a hurry. For dogs to see over the steering wheel most of the cars would have to be really small like a VW Beetle (if you can find one), a Citroen, or a small electric vehicle. Dogs would definitely make an environmental impact on automobile pollution!
As a young pup I learned a behavior which humans think is disgusting. I sniff the butts of other dogs. Let me say you can learn a lot from another dog’s derriere. It is a social gesture much like humans shaking hands. I, as a dog, can learn from the sniff how the other dog is physically feeling, his/her emotional state, even their social status. It’s a dog’s way of “getting to know you, getting to know more about you” as I playfully mouth the words out loud. But because I can speak words, I just ask any dog “What’s up, yo?” I strongly suspect, even if dogs ruled the earth, humans would never accept butt sniffing as an acceptable form of social behavior.
My life is full of leisure. No matter what kind of dog you are, these are the things that add to that leisure and sense of complacency. We all love to be scratched behind the ears. We love to have our bellies rubbed. We love to be pampered by our master’s attentive soothing vocal words. Just the other day, Billy said to me “oh you are such a good boy! Yes, you are! Such a good boy!” His gushy voice moved me into a catatonic peace of mind. I was jelly.
But like all good things this feeling didn’t last. Remember the little girl with the dachshund? After my belly rub with Billy, I came across Daisy sobbing relentlessly.
“Why are you so sad little girl?” I asked.
In a broken voice she sobbed “Oh you are Billy’s dog that talks. My puppy died when he ate my one-pound dark chocolate Easter bunny. I did not know he did that until I saw the empty box the next day. He was lying on his back with his legs straight up in the air next to all my stuffed animals. I think he died happy because he had a smile on his face.”
Oh, you poor thing. How can I help you feel better?”
The little girl still gushing tears, asked “Will I see my puppy again? Will he be in heaven with Jesus? Will he still be there when I go to heaven?”
Digging into my theological data bank, I said, “Daisy, God promises that when the time comes, He will restore the world as a new creation. He wants us to be happy. He promises this…
“Look! I am creating new heavens and a new earth, and no one will even think about the old ones anymore. The wolf and the lamb will feed together. The lion will eat hay like a cow. But the snakes will eat dust. In those days no one will be hurt or destroyed on my holy mountain. I, the Lord, have spoken!” (2)
“Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever. And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” (3)
I looked at the sweet thing, and she seemed much more relieved and calmer after my explanation. I nudged and splashed her with a big lick across her face. She giggled and then asked me if she could take me home with her.Meanwhile Billy overheard our conversation and gleefully said he would be happy to share me with Daisy. I would remain at Billy’s house and she could visit me anytime. My master, Billy was “sly as a dog’. I suspected his interest was more than sharing me to make Daisy happy. Billy was eight soon to turn nine. Though I would be likely the only talking dog he would ever have, I believe Billy was taking a turn in his interest for a different kind of companionship, a romantic one. I wondered who would be the master in that relationship? Woof, woof!
-END-
Numbers 22: 27-31 (New Living Translation)
Isaiah 65: 17, 25 (New Living Translation)
Revelation21:3b-5 (New Living Testament)
Author: Pete Gautchier
Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com