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Darkness surrounds me, and my howls and cries for help continue to go unanswered. Or maybe no one can hear me over the muffled din of cars outside. Either way, I'm all alone. I can't even tell how many hours or days or years it has been since I was put in here.
Occasionally, a soothing voice whispers to me, accompanied by a finger poking in to stroke my forehead. I gnaw on it lightly. It's comforting, but the finger quickly withdraws every time I do that, and I'm alone again. I howl into the void.
Suddenly, I feel the motion stop, and the cloth over my crate gently lifts up. My eyes take a minute to adjust to the light, but other than that, I'm... fine, I suppose. It appears I was not left for dead, after all. That's good. What's on the other side of my metal crate door is new, though, and I do not recognize my surroundings. I poke my nose out to sniff the air.
A large, round face comes into view, and I instinctively back away from the door, letting out a ruff. Someone I can't see admonishes this new human, and he scoots back as well, but reaches out slowly to open the crate. He's speaking to me. I don't know what he's saying, but- oh, this is... it's you! It's the voice in the darkness; a friend. I run up to him excitedly and give him the customary tongue-greeting. He giggles, picking me up.
"Bit of a drama queen, isn't he?"
"Hey, the car ride was almost fifteen minutes long - he must've been getting antsy. Oh, it's okay, Puppy! You're home now."
He holds me close, and I lick his nose. He's talking to me a lot. I wish I knew what he was saying, but he sounds excited, which makes me excited, too. I jump out of his arms to check out my new surroundings with a bit more confidence, now that I have discovered a friend. The boy trails after me as I inspect the house.
I thought I had made a good start, before discovering there's a whole other floor to this place. I am thwarted by the stairs, though, and I'm a little thirsty, anyway. I'm a little hungry. I'm a little sleepy. I'm being carried to my crate now, where two familiar metal bowls and my blanket are waiting for me. The cloth is placed back over the top to block out the light, but he leaves the door open. I can see him laying right outside the crate.
"You're not going to bed?"
"I will." A yawn. "I'll go when he falls asleep."
"Alright, don't stay up too late, Michael."
"I know. 'Night, mom."
The gentle snores of the boy are... irritating, at first, honestly. But his rhythmic breathing reassures me he is still here, and he stays with me all night.
The crate is dark again, but it's a comforting darkness now. I lay down and settle in, ready to sleep in my new home.
It's been a good day. I'm a smart boy, a good boy, as I'm often reminded. While their verbal communication is mostly still nonsensical to me, I think I have a solid grasp of the most important parts of their language, like "walk" (yes, please), "bath" (no, thank you), "sit" (in exchange for that treat), and I also know the names of my humans, which are "Michael" and "Mom".
We are a small family, but a happy one. I am most attached to Michael - he's a soft-spoken boy, in contrast to the much louder Mom, but he also plays with me, takes me to the park, and hides my poop from my enemies and predators. One of my favourite activities, though, is 'training'.
"Okay, Thor," He says cheerfully as he sits down on the ground, with a familiar, rustling noise. My ears perk up as I eye the treat-bag. "Shake."
I cock my head to the side, before springing into action. Let's see, is it... jumping on your lap? No. Touching my nose to your hand? No. Jumping... on your face. No ("Ow!"). Touch my paw to your paw?
"Good boy!" I know those words well. I cycle through a few more motions before going back to the paw thing, which, indeed, seems to be what he wanted. That's it? This is "shake"? Guess so. I can do that. I'm an expert at shaking.
The treats stop coming after a while, but we're having fun! We practice shaking and my other tricks well into the evening, and even sneak in a bit more training after Mom had sent us to Michael's room for bedtime.
The crate is too small for me now, so I sleep almost exclusively next to Michael these days, if I haven't fallen asleep elsewhere in the house. But I think I prefer this even if I had my own crate still. He keeps trying to put this paper cone on my head today. I don't really like this game. It's too big for me and it keeps falling off, making a loud noise when it hits the ground. But Michael is quite insistent on keeping this thing on my head, even as he dashes around the kitchen working on something.
"Hope you get all this cleaned up before your mom comes home." His human friend, George, observes from a bar stool.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm almost done. Would go a lot quicker if you helped."
"I don't know where shit goes."
I perk up my ears as a ding comes from the oven. "Oh! They're done."
Michael pulls a metal tray out with some big, puffy mittens, and the aroma of baked goods fills the room. "Gonna set this down to cool for a bit..."
George ignores him and instantly reaches out for one. He wrinkles his nose as he bites into it. "Are you sure you followed this recipe right?"
"Yeah- oh, don't try it, you dumbass, this isn't for people."
"I thought you said cupcakes!"
"I said pupcakes. Okay," He whirls around and smiles as he looks at me. "There he is. Oh, where is your hat?" He sighs. "You know what, it's okay - it's your special day."
He sets the plate down, lighting one of the mini cakes on fire before presenting it to me. I don't know if he meant to do that, but- oh, now he's blowing out the fire and removing the wax stick. Looks more edible now.
"Happy birthday!" he says. "Made these just for you." I sniff them and lick the creamy topping off. Mm. Potato. I don't know why George spat his out - this is delicious. And they're all for me? Cautiously, I take another to see if he reprimands me, but Michael grins eagerly as he watches me eat. Wow, this birthday must be a special occasion. Happy birthday to you, too, Michael! It's a good day. The wet soil is cool and squishy under my paws.
I found a very fun garden today - it's like it's raining, but localized. It's wet here. Now it's not. Now the water is back. Now it's over there. After a bit of investigation, I find the source of the water. It's spraying out of this little metal device in the ground. I wonder what happens if I put my mouth over it-
"Hey! Shoo!"
"Dear, calm down, it's just a dog-"
"It's messing with the sprinklers, and look-! Look what it did to the yard! Go, go get it off-"
"Oh, alright."
I hear a door open. Someone's coming out - maybe they want to play, too. He's approaching with a stick. Oh, he doesn't look very friendly, it's time to go. He chases me off the Water Garden, but luckily, humans are not very fast. I keep running until I can't hear him anymore.
They're not a very nice family.
Family.
I wonder where Michael is, he's usually behind me when we go outside. The door was wide open, and I kinda forgot to wait for him this time. I know people are slow, but I can't believe he hasn't caught up yet. The sun is starting to set. Maybe I should go home.
…Now, where is home?
I put my sniffer to the ground and get to work.
…
That direction's going to take me back to the park with all the dogs.
…
That way leads to the sandwich and soup place. A great place, but it's not home.
…
Smells like the black cat that's always taunting me by the window. I think I'm getting close.
…
Someone is yelling again. My ears perk up. I lift my head and listen again.
"Thooor!"
He sounds a little hoarser than usual, but that is unmistakably my Michael. Michael! His voice guides me as I sprint in the direction of his calls.
And there he is! I'm so happy I found him. He doesn't look too happy, though. His eyes are puffy and he looks quite upset, actually. I hope everything is okay. But as soon as he notices me, he runs over and throws his arms around me.
"Oh my god," His voice is muffled as he buries his face into my coat. "I was- I thought I'd never see you again. Don't do that, please."
I lick his face as he pulls away. It's wet and salty, but he finally smiles, looking a bit more like the Michael I am used to.
"Come on, let's go home."
We walk back together as the sky darkens, and the warm breeze turns to cool, night air. Well, I had a good day, at least. I don't like seeing Michael upset, though. I guess I'll just wait for him next time. Even if he's a little slow. O-wooo. Ooo-oooo.
He's spending an awful lot of time behind closed doors with that girl he keeps sneaking in whenever Mom isn't home. I hope he's not forgotten about me. I make sure to remind him I'm still sitting out here. Often. Awooo.
It worked! I sit up straight as the door suddenly jerks open.
"Buddy, you're killing me here."
I blink up at him, concerned. I am? We need to fix this. Standing up on my hind legs, I lean into him and try to push my way in. "Oh-!" He laughs, surprised by my weight. I'm surprised, too - sometimes I forget I've gotten big. He manages to steady himself and steer me back out, though, but not before I catch a glimpse of the girl sitting on his bed. You.
"I'm sorry, I know," He bends down and ruffles my ears. "Here, why don't... why don't you go play outside for a little bit? We'll be right out. We'll play ball later."
Outside? My ears perk up.
"Yeah! Come on!" I chase him down the stairs as he makes his way to the kitchen, and pulls open the glass sliding door to the yard. As I run outside and turn around to look at him expectantly, he closes the door behind me.
Ruff. "I said I'll be out later! Be good!" His muffled voice comes out from behind the glass. Ruff! I protest, but he turns to go back upstairs.
Well, that was rude. I squeak one of the toys I left in the grass yesterday, tossing it around by myself for a few minutes. It's alright. Not as fun on my own, though.
Phooey.
After what feels like an eternity of moping by myself, the two reappear, all chipper and giddy. Sure kept me waiting.
"And here's the little guy who was howling at the door earlier."
"Thor, right? Like, Thor from the Marvel comics?"
"Yeah, exactly! Do, uh, do you like Marvel?"
"I do, yeah!"
"Well, we should watch some of those movies together sometime."
"I'd like that."
They smile at each other for a weirdly long time. I drop my squeaky toy in Michael's lap.
"Oh," He laughs. "I think he wants to play. You wanna throw it for him?"
"Sure!"
The girl has a good, strong throw. I was a little reluctant to play with her at first, but she's actually a lot of fun. I can see why Michael likes her so much. I show her some of my tricks (she was very impressed), we play fetch together, including the version where they try to play keep-away and I get the ball from them by bowling them over, and just before night falls, Michael and I walk her home together.
Okay, well, I guess she's not so bad. She is nice. She makes him happy. That makes me happy, too. I timidly approach the new car. I've been in Mom's vehicle before, many times, but it's never been a good thing. We go to the vet, drop Michael off in various places, or visit the dreadful Aunt Mae. Michael's extra excited about this one today, though.
"Shotgun," George calls out. He reaches for the handle, but is stopped by Michael.
"Ah-uh, that's reserved for my best friend."
"Yeah, man, back of the line. We've known each oth-"
"My best friend," Michael repeats, and he opens the door himself, before hoisting me up onto the new, plush seat.
"Aw, come on, man. Really?" His friends protest, but they get in the back seat as the engine roars to life.
We drive around, seemingly aimlessly. The boys chat and laugh or something, but I'm barely paying attention - Michael opened the window for me, and this is an exhilarating experience. Every scent, every sound outside is simultaneously hitting my face and then immediately zipping past me before I can grasp what I am smelling, before new smells and sounds replace those, and the cycle continues. I feel like I'm everywhere at once, in the best way possible.
"This is a big day for us, bud. We can go anywhere now! I can take you to the dog park whenever, we can... We can go on a road trip! Hey, you guys wanna go on a road trip?"
HONK. A car horn blares, and I whip my head around just in time to see Michael quickly jerking the steering wheel in the opposite direction and pulling away from the vehicle he almost collided with.
"Oh, shit. Sorry! I'm so sorry!" He yells out the window as his friends snicker in the backseat. "Shut up. Okay, maybe the road trip can wait. I can use a bit of practice. We'll start small. Let's go to the dog park." There's a creek just past our backyard, and the water is too shallow to swim in, but it's still nice to hang out and splash around there when the weather gets really hot. This was me and Michael's spot when we were younger, but over the years, he's brought his friends along as well. I don't mind sharing. The more, the merrier.
I tire of playing in the water much quicker these days, and return to the banks to sit with them. It's still fun to try and drink from the creek as the water burbles past. I snap at the rushing water.
"You're not taking him with you?"
Michael shakes his head. "Can't, I'm dorming."
"That's too bad." A sigh. "Last time out here, I guess, huh? Next summer, we'll all be... somewhere else."
"We're still coming back."
"Oh, I'm not coming back to this shithole. You can come find me in New York exclusively after this year."
"Well, I am. I have to. Right, bud?" A hand claps on my back and I jump, before turning around to lick Michael's face. "Oh, gross," He laughs, wiping his face. "Don't know what else has been in that water. Come on, up." It's been a while since I've seen Michael.
I wait by the front door. I wait in his room. I check the garage for his car whenever Mom forgets to close the door, but it's never there anymore. He's not there.
Sometimes Mom comes in here and tidies up, even though it looks the same every time. I think she just misses him, too.
She says he went to school, but he usually comes back. This feels long. Much longer. Or short. I don't know, telling time has never been my forte, but the sun has gone down and come up a lot since I last saw him.
She's nice to me. Mom's always been nice to me, but it's not the same. We don't go for joyrides. We don't play fetch at the park. We don't go to the creek. She does her best, though, I think. And I'm here for her, like she's here for me. I share my toys with her, too, but she's less enthusiastic about them than Michael is.
The sun is making me kind of sleepy. For now, I'll take a nap in his room. Maybe he'll be back when I wake up this time. The familiar, twinkling lights on the tree dance merrily, as they do every year, and Mom hums in the kitchen. I haven't seen her this happy in a while. Something special must be coming today.
And then, it happens. The doorbell rings.
It's... it's...
It's Aunt Mae, great. She's brought her two yippy, little dogs, with her too. I've humoured them in the past, but I am getting too old for this. I hope they leave me alone.
The doorbell rings again, and again - familiar and not-so-familiar faces alike show up one by one, and our home fills up with people. It's a little overwhelming after a while, and I sneak back upstairs to watch the crowd from the bannisters. Upstairs seems to be off-limits to the outsiders. I'm content up here, until I hear...
Is it...? I return downstairs to make sure.
"Hey, there he is!"
Mom wipes her hands on her apron, as she makes her way to the door. I trot just past her to see who's finally at the door, and a rush of joy sweeps over me as I bowl him over, almost knocking him into the snow behind the open door as I continue to jump up and lick his face.
"Oof-! Hey, Thor. Yes, hello! I missed you too, buddy." Michael chuckles, steadying the both of us. "I know, I'm sorry, school's been really kicking my ass. I'll try to come home more, hm?"
"Oh, you'll come back for the dog, but not when your mom asks you to visit more, huh."
"Yeeup." Michael jokes as he embraces Mom. "I'm kidding, Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too. Come on, get outta the cold. Dinner's starting soon!" He's always showering me with new treats and toys every time he comes home. I don't know if he's noticed I don't play with them as much anymore, but I still appreciate them. This time was no different, and Michael proudly presents me with a box of my favourite Milk-Bones and a fat, little squirrel toy. I give it a good squeak.
Whenever summer rolls around, Michael returns with it, and it's almost like no time has past. It's just like the good old days. I'm a bit older now, I know it. But I still like going down to the creek, sticking my head out the car window, and occasionally chasing after those toys, even though I tire of it much quicker these days. No matter how old he gets, no matter how old I get, some things don't change much.
I'll always treasure these summer days. "He's not doing so well, honey. I think... I think maybe you should come back one of these weekends, just so..." Mom's voice trails off as I stroll in and look around. Michael?
He's not here, but it sounds like he is. That little light-up rectangle she talks into is deceptive sometimes. But maybe my ears are just going. I stretch as I climb up on the chair next to her to get a better listen. Ooh. Something in me made a cracking noise that shouldn't have. I shake it off.
"Do you want to talk to Michael? Oh, his tail is wagging, he knows," Mom croons, scratching my ear. "Here, you're on speaker phone."
"Hey, buddy! How's it going?" A small a-woo is all I can manage - try as I have, I never fully grasped the ability to speak. But I think he gets me. "You miss me? I miss you. I'll be back soon to see you, so don't you go anywhere. I'll take you to Vegas for my 21st, how's that sound?"
"You will not drag poor, old Thor to Vegas."
"I'm kidding. But I will be back soon. Wait for me, okay, bud?" "I think he's been holding on for you, the sweetheart." Mom exhales. Her voice is shaking a little. "He's..."
"I know."
Michael steps into the backyard. "Hey, Thor, buddy." He calls to me gently. I'd get up to greet him, too, but I'm not feeling up to it right now. My tail wags feebly as he sits down next to me on the porch and scratches my ear. It feels nice.
I can feel the sunlight on my body, but I'm not getting any warmer. Michael holds my paw in his hand, stroking it lightly. "You cold, bud?" He asks quietly. I am. It's weird. I'm usually not, unless I'm in the snow during winter or something. "Don't worry, I got you." He gets up and sprints back inside. No, don't go...
...
He returns quickly enough, though, with a blanket from his bed. He wraps it around me and holds me tightly. I like this. It has a familiar smell. There's a sadness in his eyes that I don't like. I wish I could make it better. I'm sorry, old friend. He strokes my back as I lay across his lap.
"It's okay." He whispers, almost like he heard me. "It'll be okay, I got you."
I'm not sure how long we sit together like this, but this is nice. Feels like forever ago, when he had all the time in the world to just sit with me. Feels like we've been sitting here all day. Or maybe we have - the sky is turning dark again. I never was good at telling time.
He makes a sniffling noise, and I look up to see the tears falling down the corners of his eyes as he stares off into the horizon. Oh, don't... I touch my nose to his hand, and he looks down. Michael rubs his eyes with his other hand and smiles at me. It'll be okay.
Okay, Karen. I didn't need to feel feelings today.
Jesting aside, this was a fantastic short story. You did an exceptional job capturing Thor's character, as well as the characters of Michael, this "Mom" figure and others in his eyes. The humorous parts actually did make me chuckle a few times and the sadder parts certainly hit home. The story flowed very well too, which is deceptively hard with a more diary-like style. The feeling of contentment was also very much there, coming through quite consistently, although there were a few times where it (intentionally) lapsed.
I would say that you could work on the grammar side of things a bit still though. You have a tendency to overuse commas. This was especially true in the early parts of the story.
Spelling and Grammar: 8
Characterization, Plot and Description: 10
Relevance to Prompt: 10
Total Score: 28/30
bobandbill
For me, this was the strongest entry, which nailed the emotional punches, even if I could see what direction the story was heading earlier. It was well structured and the personal voice in Thor was solid throughout.
The prompt was definitely very well addressed as well - good job there.
Sometimes you could stand to shorten sentences and address punctuation usage.
Spelling and Grammar: 8
Characterization, Plot and Description: 10
Relevance to Prompt: 10
Total Score: 28/30
Bay
Aw this is a very sweet piece. You did well showcasing the dog's love for his owner and also behavior. Heh I like that the dog is named after Thor from Marvel comic/movies. And oh no him dying at the end. =<
Spelling and Grammar: 9
Characterization, Plot and Description: 9
Relevance to Prompt: 10
Total Score: 28/30
I made some minor edits to the version above because I didn't have the time to proofread before submitting, so if you are curious what my actual submission looked like, this is what I sent the judges:
Spoiler:
Title: Twelve Years
Prompt: Contentment Darkness surrounds me, and my howls and cries for help continue to go unanswered. Or maybe no one can hear me over the muffled din of cars outside. Either way, I'm all alone. I can't even tell how many hours, or days, or years it has been since I was put in here.
Occasionally, a soothing voice whispers to me, accompanied by a finger poking in to stroke my forehead. I gnaw on it lightly. It's comforting, but the finger quickly withdraws every time I do that, and I'm alone again. I howl into the void.
Suddenly, I feel the motion stop, and the cloth over my crate gently lifts up. My eyes take a minute to adjust to the light, but other than that, I'm... fine, I suppose. It appears I was not left for dead, after all. That's good. What's on the other side of my metal crate door is new, though, and I do not recognize my surroundings. I poke my nose out to sniff the air.
A large, round face comes into view, and I instinctively back away from the door, letting out a ruff. Someone I can't see admonishes this new human, and he scoots back as well, but reaches out slowly to open the crate. He's speaking to me. I don't know what he's saying, but- oh, this is... it's you! It's the voice in the darkness; a friend! I run up to him excitedly and give him the customary tongue-greeting. He giggles, picking me up.
"Bit of a drama queen, isn't he?"
"Hey, the car ride was almost fifteen minutes long - he must've been getting antsy. Oh, it's okay, Puppy! You're home now."
He holds me close, and I lick his nose. He's talking to me a lot. I wish I knew what he was saying, but he sounds excited, which makes me excited, too. I jump out of his arms to check out my new surroundings with a bit more confidence, now that I have discovered a friend. The boy trails after me as I inspect the house.
I thought I had made a good start, before discovering there's a whole other floor to this place. I am thwarted by the stairs, though, and I'm a little thirsty, anyway. I'm a little hungry. I'm a little sleepy. I'm... being carried to my crate now, where two familiar metal bowls and my blanket are waiting for me. The cloth is placed back over the top to block out the light, but he leaves the door open. I can see him laying right outside the crate.
"You're not going to bed?"
"I will." A yawn. "I'll go when he falls asleep."
"Alright, don't stay up too late, Michael."
"I know. 'Night, mom."
The gentle snores of the boy are... irritating, at first, honestly. But his rhythmic breathing reassures me he is still here.
The crate is dark again, but it's a comforting darkness now. I lay down and settle in, ready to sleep in my new home.
It's been a good day.
I'm a smart boy, a good boy, as I'm often reminded; while their verbal communication is mostly still nonsensical to me, I think I have a solid grasp of the most important parts of their language, like "walk" (yes, please), "bath" (no, thank you), "sit" (in exchange for that treat), and I also know the names of my humans, which are "Michael" and "Mom".
We are a small family, but a happy one. I am most attached to Michael - he's a soft-spoken boy, in contrast to the much louder Mom, but he also plays with me, takes me to the park, and hides my poop from my enemies and predators. One of my favourite activities, though, is "training". It usually involves him saying a new word to me over and over, and I simply have to figure out what it is he wants. And then I get a treat. It's very simple, except that middle stage.
"Okay, Thor," He says cheerfully as he sits down on the ground, with a familiar, rustling noise. My ears perk up as I eye the treat-bag. "Shake."
I cock my head to the side, before springing into action. Let's see, is it... jumping on your lap? No. Touching my nose to your hand? No. Jumping... on your face. No ("Ow!"). Touch my paw to your paw?
"Good boy!" I know those words well. I cycle through a few more motions before going back to the paw thing, which, indeed, seems to be what he wanted. That's it? This is "shake"? Guess so. I can do that. I'm an expert at shaking.
The treats stop coming after a while, but we're having fun! We practice shaking and my other tricks well into the evening, and even sneak in a bit more training after Mom had sent us to Michael's room to sleep.
The crate is too small for me now, so I almost exclusively sleep next to Michael these days, if I haven't fallen asleep elsewhere in the house. But I think I prefer this even if I had my own crate still.
He keeps trying to put this paper cone on my head today. I don't really like this game. It's too big for me and it keeps falling off, making a loud noise when it hits the ground. But Michael is quite insistent on keeping this thing on my head, even as he dashes around the kitchen working on something.
"Hope you get all this cleaned up before your mom comes home." His human friend, George, observes from a bar stool.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm almost done. Would go a lot quicker if you helped."
"I don't know where shit goes."
I perk up my ears as a ding comes from the oven. "Oh! They're done."
Michael pulls a metal tray out with some big, puffy mittens, and the aroma of baked goods fills the room. "Gonna set this down to cool for a bit..."
George ignores him and instantly reaches out for one. He wrinkles his nose as he bites into it. "Are you sure you followed this recipe right?"
"Yeah- oh, don't try it, you dumbass, this isn't for people."
"I thought you said cupcakes!"
"I said pupcakes. Okay," He whirls around and smiles as he looks at me. "There he is. Oh, where is your hat?" He sighs. "You know what, it's okay - it's your special day."
He sets the plate down, lighting one of the mini cakes on fire before presenting it to me. I don't know if he meant to do that, but- oh, now he's blowing out the fire and removing the wax stick.
"Happy birthday!" he says. "Made these just for you." I sniff them and lick the creamy topping off. Mm. Potato. I don't know why George spat his out - this is delicious. And they're all for me? Cautiously, I take another to see if he reprimands me, but Michael grins eagerly as he watches me eat. Wow, this birthday must be a special occasion. Happy birthday to you, too, Michael! It's a good day.
The wet soil is cool and squishy under my paws.
I found a very fun garden today - it's like it's raining, but localized. It's wet here. Now it's not. Now the water is back. Now it's over there. After a bit of investigation, I find the source of the water. It's spraying out of this little metal device in the ground. I wonder what happens if I put my mouth over it-
"Hey! Shoo!"
"Dear, calm down, it's just a dog-"
"It's messing with the sprinklers, and look-! Look what it did to the yard! Go, go get it off-"
"Oh, alright."
I hear a door open. Someone's coming out - maybe they want to play, too. He's approaching with a stick. Oh, he doesn't look very friendly, it's time to go. He chases me off the Water Garden, but luckily, humans are not very fast. I keep running until I can't hear him anymore.
They're not a very nice family.
Family.
I wonder where Michael is, he's usually behind me when we go outside. The door was wide open, and I kinda forgot to wait for him this time. I know people are slow, but I can't believe he hasn't caught up yet. The sun is starting to set. Maybe I should go home.
…Where is home?
I put my sniffer to the ground and get to work.
…
That direction's going to take me back to the park with all the dogs.
…
That way leads to the sandwich and soup place. A great place, but it's not home.
…
Smells like the black cat that's always taunting me by the window. I think I'm getting close.
…
Someone is yelling again. My ears perk up. I lift my head and listen again.
"Thooor!"
He sounds a little hoarser than usual, but that is unmistakably my Michael. Michael! His voice guides me as I sprint in the direction of his calls.
And there he is! I'm so happy I found him. He doesn't look too happy, though. His eyes are puffy and he looks quite upset, actually. I hope everything is okay. But as soon as he notices me, he runs over and throws his arms around me.
"Oh my god," His voice is muffled as he buries his face into my coat. "I was- I thought I'd never see you again. Don't do that, please."
I lick his face as he pulls away. It's wet and salty, but he finally smiles, looking a bit more like the Michael I am used to.
"Come on, let's go home."
We walk back home together as the sky darkens, and the warm breeze turns to cool, night air. Well, I had a good day, at least. I don't like seeing Michael upset, though. I guess I'll just wait for him next time. Even if he's a little slow.
O-wooo. Ooo-oooo.
He's spending an awful lot of time behind closed doors with that girl he keeps sneaking in whenever Mom isn't home. I hope he's not forgotten about me. I make sure to remind him I'm still sitting out here. Often. Awooo.
It worked! I sit up straight as the door suddenly jerks open.
"Buddy, you're killing me here."
I blink up at him, concerned. I am? We need to fix this. Standing up on my hind legs, I lean into him and try to push my way in. "Oh-!" He laughs, surprised by my weight. I'm surprised, too - sometimes I forget I've gotten big. He manages to steady himself and steer me back out, though, but not before I catch a glimpse of the girl sitting on his bed. You.
"I'm sorry, I know," He bends down and ruffles my ears. "Here, why don't... why don't you go play outside for a little bit? We'll be right out. We'll play ball later."
Outside? My ears perk up.
"Yeah! Come on!" I chase him down the stairs as he makes his way to the kitchen, and pulls open the glass sliding door to the yard. As I run outside and turn around to look at him expectantly, he closes the door behind me.
Ruff. "I said I'll be out later! Be good!" His muffled voice comes out from behind the glass. Ruff! I protest, but he turns to go back upstairs.
Well, that was rude. I squeak one of the toys I left in the grass yesterday, tossing it around by myself for a few minutes. It's alright. Not as fun on my own, though.
Phooey.
After what feels like an eternity of moping by myself, the two reappear, all chipper and giddy. Sure kept me waiting.
"And here's the little guy who was howling at the door earlier."
"Thor, right? Like, Thor from the Marvel comics?"
"Yeah, exactly! Do, uh, do you like Marvel?"
"I do, yeah!"
"Well, we should watch some of those movies together sometime."
"I'd like that."
They smile at each other dopily. Sickening. I drop my squeaky toy in Michael's lap.
"Oh," He laughs. "I think he wants to play. You wanna throw it for him?"
"Sure!"
The girl has a good, strong throw. I was a little reluctant to play with her at first, but she's actually a lot of fun. I can see why Michael likes her so much. I show her some of my tricks (she was very impressed), we play fetch together, including the version where they try to play keep-away and I get the ball from them by bowling them over, and, just before night falls, Michael and I walk her home together.
Okay, well, I guess she's not so bad. She is nice. She makes him happy. That makes me happy, too.
I timidly approach the new car. I've been in Mom's vehicle before, many times, but it's never been a good thing. We go to the vet, drop Michael off in various places, or visit the dreadful Aunt Mae. Michael's extra excited about this one today, though.
"Shotgun," George calls out. He reaches for the handle, but is stopped by Michael.
"Ah-uh, that's reserved for my best friend."
"Yeah, man, back of the line. We've known each oth-"
"My best friend," Michael repeats, and he opens the door himself, before hoisting me up onto the new, plush seat.
"Aw, come on, man." His friends protest, but they get in the back seat as the engine roars to life.
We drive around, seemingly aimlessly. The boys chat and laugh or something, but I'm barely paying attention, because Michael opened the window for me, and this is an exhilarating experience. Every scent, every sound outside is simultaneously hitting my face and then immediately zipping past me before I can grasp what I am smelling, before new smells and sounds replace those, and the cycle continues. I feel like I'm everywhere at once, in the best way possible.
"This is a big day for us, bud. We can go anywhere now! I can take you to the dog park whenever, we can... We can go on a road trip! Hey, you guys wanna go on a road trip?"
HONK. A car horn blares, and I whip my head around just in time to see Michael quickly jerking the steering wheel in the opposite direction and pulling away from the vehicle he almost collided with.
"Oh, shit. Sorry! I'm so sorry!" He yells out the window as his friends snicker in the backseat. "Shut up. Okay, maybe the road trip can wait. I can use a bit of practice. We'll start small. Let's go to the dog park."
There's a creek just past our backyard, and the water is too shallow to swim in, but it's still nice to hang out and splash around there when the weather gets really hot. This was me and Michael's spot when we were younger, but over the years, he's brought his friends along as well. I don't mind sharing.
I tire of playing in the water much quicker these days, and return to the banks to sit with them. It's still fun to try and drink from the creek as the water burbles past. I snap at the rushing water.
"You're not taking him with you?"
Michael shakes his head. "I'm dorming. No pets allowed."
A sigh. "Last time out here, I guess, huh? Next summer, we'll all be... Somewhere else."
"We're still coming back."
"Shit, I'm not coming back here. You can come find me in New York exclusively after this year."
"Well, I am. I have to. Right, bud?" A hand claps on my back and I jump, before turning around to lick Michael's face. "Oh, gross," He laughs, wiping his face. "Don't know what else has been in that water. Come on, up."
It's been a while since I've seen Michael.
I wait by the front door, I wait in his room, I check the garage for his car whenever Mom forgets to close the door, but it's never there anymore. He's not there.
Sometimes Mom comes in here and tidies up, even though it looks the same every time. I think she just misses him, too.
She says he went to school, but he usually comes back. This feels long. Much longer. Or short. I don't know, telling time has never been my forte, but the sun has gone down and come up a lot since I last saw him.
She's nice to me. Mom's always been nice to me, but it's not the same. We don't go for joyrides. We don't play fetch at the park. We don't go to the creek. She does her best, though, I think. And I'm here for her, like she's here for me. I share my toys with her, too, but she's less enthusiastic about them than Michael is.
The sun is making me kind of sleepy. For now, I'll take a nap in his room. Maybe he'll be back when I wake up this time.
The familiar, twinkling lights on the tree dance merrily, as they do every year, and Mom hums in the kitchen. I haven't seen her this happy in a while. Something special must be coming today.
And then, it happens. The doorbell rings.
It's... It's...
It's Aunt Mae, great. She's brought her two yippy, little dogs, with her too. I've humoured them in the past, but I am getting too old for this. Hope they leave me alone.
The doorbell rings again, and again - familiar and not-so-familiar faces alike show up one by one, and our home fills up with people. It's a little overwhelming after a while, and I sneak back upstairs to watch the crowd from the bannisters. Upstairs seems to be off-limits to the outsiders. I'm content up here, until I hear...
Is it...? I return downstairs to make sure.
"Hey, there he is!"
Mom wipes her hands on her apron, as she makes her way to the door. I trot just past her to see who's finally at the door, and a rush of joy sweeps over me as I bowl him over, almost knocking him into the snow behind the open door as I continue to jump up and lick his face.
"I missed you too, buddy." "I know, I'm sorry, school's been really kicking my ass. I'll try to come home more, hm?"
"Oh, you'll come back for the dog, but not when your mom asks you to visit more, huh."
"Yeeup." Michael jokes as he embraces Mom. "I'm kidding, Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too. Come on, get outta the cold. Dinner's starting soon!"
He's always showering me with new treats and toys every time he comes home. I don't know if he's noticed I don't play with them as much anymore, but I still appreciate them. This time was no different, and Michael proudly presents me with a box of my favourite Milk-Bones and a fat, little squirrel toy. I give it a good squeak.
Whenever summer rolls around, Michael returns with it, and it's almost like no time has past. It's just like the good old days. I'm a bit older now, I know it. But I still like going down to the creek, sticking my head out the car window, and occasionally chasing after those toys, even though I tire of it much quicker these days. No matter how old he gets, no matter how old I get, some things don't change.
I'll always treasure these summer days.
"He's not doing so well, honey. I think... I think maybe you should come back one of these weekends, just so..." Mom's voice trails off as I stroll in and look around. Thought I heard Michael.
He's not here, but it feels like he is. That little light-up rectangle she talks into is very deceptive sometimes. But maybe my ears are just going. I stretch as I climb up on the chair next to her to get a better listen. Ooh. Something in me made a cracking noise that shouldn't have. I shake it off.
"Do you want to talk to Michael? Oh, his tail is wagging, he knows," Mom croons, scratching my ear. "Here, you're on speaker phone."
"Hey, buddy! How's it going?" Awoo is all I can manage - try as I have, I never fully grasped the ability to speak. But I think he gets me. "You miss me? I miss you. I'll be back soon to see you, so don't you go anywhere. I'll take you to Vegas for my 21st, how's that sound?"
"You will not drag poor, old Thor to Vegas."
"I'm kidding. But... no, I'll be back soon. Wait for me, okay, bud?"
"I think he's been holding on for you, the sweetheart." Mom exhales. Her voice is shaking a little. "He's..."
"I know."
Michael steps into the backyard. "Hey, Thor, buddy." He calls to me gently. I'd get up to greet him, too, but I'm not feeling up to it right now. My tail wags feebly as he sits down next to me on the porch and scratches my ear. It feels nice.
I can feel the sunlight on my body, but I'm not getting any warmer. Michael holds my paw in his hand, stroking it lightly. "You cold, bud?" He asks quietly, almost like he heard my thoughts. I am. It's weird. I'm usually not, unless it's wintertime. "Don't worry, I got you." He gets up and sprints inside. No, don't go...
...
He returns quickly enough, though, with a blanket from his bed. He wraps it around me and holds me tightly. There's a sadness in his eyes that I don't like. I wish I could make it better. I'm sorry, old friend.
"It's okay," He whispers quietly, almost like he heard me.
I'm not sure how long we sit together like this, but this is nice. Feels like forever ago, when he had all the time in the world to just sit next to me. Feels like we've been sitting here all day. Or maybe we have - the sky is turning dark again. I never was good at telling time.
He makes a sniffling noise, and I look up to see the tears falling down the corners of his eyes. Oh, don't... I touch my nose to his hand, and he looks down. Michael rubs his eyes with his other hand and smiles at me. We watch the sun set together for the last time.
Nooooo! You made me feel sad! I hate it! I love it!
This deserves each one of the points it got IMO. I managed to write only one year but you wrote twelve and it feels like more.
Also I kept checking back after the scene drinking the water in the creek because I was fearful that there was something there that was bad and the story was going to go that way. I can say I feel glad it... doesn't seem to have to. You bastard, I'm still checking and rereading back just in case I missed something.
Nooooo! You made me feel sad! I hate it! I love it!
This deserves each one of the points it got IMO. I managed to write only one year but you wrote twelve and it feels like more.
Also I kept checking back after the scene drinking the water in the creek because I was fearful that there was something there that was bad and the story was going to go that way. I can say I feel glad it... doesn't seem to have to. You bastard, I'm still checking and rereading back just in case I missed something.
Thank you for the kind comments!! I'm glad enjoyed this, there were definitely lots of parallels between our story ideas with the more slice-of-life elements of a non-human and timeskips to specific moments between long periods of time.
Story definitely could have taken a much darker turn at the creek, but I'm glad Thor had a life of contentment instead as well, haha.
