by Kristen Otte
I’m okay!
The realization sends me on another sprint through the yard. I create a tornado of splashing water in my wake. I run four laps around the yard at frantic pug pace.
“Zelda, inside!” Nate shouts. I stop and look at Nate in the door. “Inside,” he says again.
Bummer.
I scamper to the door, sopping wet. Nate scoops me up into his towel and closes the door.
“Hannah, can you get some bath water started?”
“Sure.”
“Zelda was having a little too much fun in our backyard swamp,” Nate says. I hear a few laughs as Nate smashes the towel all over my body. He carries me through the living room and up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I hear the worst sound in the world. Maybe it isn’t the worst sound–that would be Vacuum, but it’s the second worst sound. It’s bath time.
Oh no. I didn’t think about this part.
I squirm, trying to escape, but he won’t let me go. He carries me into the room and dumps me in the giant bowl of water. With Nate’s firm grip, I am stuck in here until it’s over. At least I had a mini-adventure today. Even with the bath, I feel like I am one paw closer to being the one and only Zelda pug again.
7
The Tall Bowls
The light peeks in through the window. Morning is here. I rush down the stairs and peer out the window. The gray is gone! I stand and scratch the back door. Hannah lets me outside into the bright morning light.
When I step outside, I inhale the damp, warm air. My paws sink with each step on the mushy ground. I am tempted to gallop through the yard, but the thought of another bath stops me from sprinting.
A few minutes later, Peach joins me outside. She high-steps through the wet and muddy ground, trying to avoid staining her white paws. She isn’t outside for long. I follow her back into the house.
The family is away for the majority of the day, so Peach and I nap while we await their return. Between naps, I decide today is the day that I take my family for a walk. I haven’t gone on a walk since the cone.
When they come home, the bright light is fading. I sit by the front door, eager for a walk before the darkness invades. My family ignores me, so I paw at the door and let out a slight whimper.
“Okay, okay. I hear you,” Nate says. He jogs up the stairs and returns a few minutes later.
“I’m taking the dogs for a walk,” he calls out. “Be back soon.”
Hannah nods. Lucy lies, with her eyes closed, snuggled next to Hannah. Ben is out of sight. Nate jingles the leashes, so Peach struts to the front door. He dresses us for our walk, and we scurry out the door.
Nate leads us on our normal loop through the neighborhood. Peach and I stop at the normal spots, like the light post, a few trees, and mailboxes. When we round the corner to make the final turn toward our home, the bright light in the sky is close to the ground. I freeze and stare at the colors surrounding the bright ball. I’m so engrossed in the sight that I don’t hear Nate’s words.
“Zelda, let’s go. Zelda,” he says. I snap out of the trance and shake my head three times. The head shake causes me to sneeze twice. I take a step forward, but all I see are black spots. Oh no. What now?
“Zelda, walk!” I jerk forward. I need to walk with Nate. I take a few steps and focus on the walking. In between the black spots, I see the sidewalk. While I try to walk straight, I blink a pug million times. The black spots disappear one by one, and I regain my vision. I breathe a sigh of relief and vow never to stare at the bright ball again.
When our house is within sight, I dash to the front door. Lucy is sitting upright next to Hannah. Ben is on the couch. I take a spot next to Lucy on the couch. Peach runs in the house and grabs a ball. Ben slides onto the floor and grabs a bunch of tennis balls. He launches them one at a time, and Peach chases after each one. She doesn’t bring any of them back to him. I don’t blame her. He is just going to throw another one.
After round one, Ben stands and gathers the tennis balls from all over the room. He sets them in a pile and sits on the floor. He grabs his tall bowl from the table and places it on the ground next to him. I move to the other end of the couch to get a better vantage point on the action.
When I reach the edge of the couch, I smell something. I look down to Ben’s tall bowl.
What is in that?
I jump to the floor. Ben is busy playing with Peach. I creep up to the bowl, tail down, in stealth-pug mode. Ben’s eyes are focused forward on Peach and away from his bowl next to him. I am out of Hannah’s line of sight, too.
I sniff the bowl. I don’t recognize the smell, but the bowl is filled with white water. I stick my head close to the bowl and take a quick lick.
The taste is familiar, but I can’t place it from my memory. I look up. Ben is busy with Peach. I take a few more licks. The more I drink from the bowl, the more I like it.
I hear a rustling noise beside me. Ben is standing. I hurry away from the bowl and walk to Peach. Ben reaches beside him and lifts the bowl. He drinks the rest of it. Then he takes the bowl away to the kitchen.
I leap on the couch and look around the living room. Another tall bowl rests on the table in front of the couch. There are always tall bowls around. How come I haven’t tried any of them before? I think about all the deliciousness waiting for me, and I know that this is my next adventure.
The bowls are my new mission. I scope out the different types of tall bowls and where my family places them. Most of the time, they set the bowls on the table in front of the couch, making it difficult—but not impossible—for me to reach. But every once in a while, one is placed on the floor. The floor placement is a jackpot for me. I am three for three on samples of them. Besides Ben’s white drink, I sample a tall bowl with super cold water that tastes great and one dark-colored drink. I don’t like that one at all, so I’m going to avoid it next time.
After those first three, I hit a standstill in my drink mission. My family doesn’t leave any bowls on the floor for many days, so I need to devise a plan to drink from the bowls on the table. The plan is tricky, but I know I can do it.
I go through the activities motions of the day with my heart beating faster than normal. My back fur keeps standing up from excitement, so I hide under the blankets, waiting for the light to fade and the family to gather in the living room.
Hannah and Lucy settle into the living room first, but they don’t bring any bowls. I wait on the couch until Nate arrives with a tall bowl. He puts it on the edge of the table in front of the couch.
I step over Lucy and stand next to Nate on the couch. I sniff, trying to get a whiff of the bowl, before I make a move. The smell is faint, but different, new to my pug nostrils.
I have to get a taste.
“Zelda, leave it,” Nate says. I look at him and realize I am very close to the bowl. I take a couple steps away. I need Nate’s attention elsewhere to sample his drink.
Peach lies on the floor chewing a nylabone. I jump off the couch, use my pug stealth, and sneak up behind her and take the nylabone. She chases after me. We dash through the living room in a big circle. After a couple minutes, I let her grab the nylabone from me. She takes it, but she no longer has an interest in chewing. Peach wants to play. I jump on the couch away from her.
“ARFFF! ARFFF!” Peach barks. She stares at Nate and barks again.
“Okay, I’ll play with you,” Nate says. He scoots down from the couch.
Perfect. My plan is working.
While he collects the tennis balls, I inch my way closer to the edge of the couch. The table is too far away. I can’t get my nose and tongue inside the bowl from the couch. I have to get on the table.
I look at Hannah and Lucy. Their eyes are focused on Nate and the big talking screen. I don’t think they are moving from the couch anytime soon. I have to go for it with them present. There’s no other option.
I take a deep breath and step over to the coffee table. The table is slick, but I dig in and put both my front paws on
the table. My back legs rest on the end of the couch. I lean forward so my mouth is just above the bowl. I take a lick.
The taste is sweet, and I know I want more. I take another lick. I don’t hesitate. After the fourth taste, I know my time is running out. I take one more lick, leaning forward so I can reach more of the drink. But when I lean, my not-so-firm footing on the table causes me to slip. I start to slide.
Uh oh. I’m in trouble.
I scramble to regain my balance, my front paws a flurry of movement, but I forget about the tall bowl. One of my paws knocks the bowl, and I watch in horror as it tumbles over onto the table.
I’m sliding, in danger of falling to the floor between the gap of the couch and the table. I push off the table and manage to vault backward onto the couch while I hear lots of shouting.
“What happened?” Nate asks.
“Zelda,” Hannah says. “She knocked over your cup.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. She was on the table.”
“Why was she on the coffee table?”
“I don’t know.”
I leap from the couch and scurry under my blanket in my dog bed. I can’t believe I got caught. I was so close. I don’t know if I will ever be the pug I was before the cone.
While Nate and Hannah clean up the table, Peach wanders over to me. She licks my face and lies beside me. I snuggle up next to her and fall asleep, dreaming of my former days of glory.
8
The Rabbit
I wake up the next day with Peach’s head snuggled in my fur. The light streams through the window, brightening the room. I yawn and sneeze twice before I rise from the bed. Peach groans when I move out from under her big head, but then she falls back asleep. I jump to the floor and head down the stairs.
Hannah and Nate are talking in the kitchen. I sit by the door, and they let me outside. I step into the sunlight and listen to the birds talking. I circle the backyard, checking the usual spots for traces of squirrels. I keep my nose on high alert after finding a couple spots with new scents.
I find a place in the middle of the sun and lie in the grass. A soft breeze ruffles through my fur. This day is perfect. I think about the past few weeks and everything that has happened. It’s been rough, but I decide that today is the day everything changes. I am ready for adventures. I am ready for anything.
The back door slides open. Peach runs into the backyard. She finds her spot and then sprints in my direction. I stand and await her arrival. A split second before she arrives, I dash in the other direction. Peach chases me, and we run in circles through the yard. When she catches me, we wrestle and tumble through the grass. When we stop rolling, we both stand, panting and smiling. Peach is ready for me to be back to my normal pug-self too.
“Zelda, Peach, inside!” Hannah shouts. We race to the door. Peach inches past me and soars into the house with a flying leap. She slides across the slippery floor and crashes into a chair. I go the other way and take a few long licks at the water bowl. Peach is on the couch now. I join her for our morning nap.
When I wake up, it is time to seek out an adventure, but I need my family’s help. They aren’t in the living room. I hear creaks from above, so I skip up the stairs. Lucy is playing in her room. Hannah is sitting on a chair. Ben and Nate are nowhere to be found. Hannah is the best option. I walk up to her and bark twice. She looks down at me. I bark again.
“What, Zelda?” she asks. I bark and then run out of the room and down the stairs. I scratch at the front door, but Hannah doesn’t follow. I bark again from downstairs and scratch again. I repeat this process a few times before she appears at the top of the steps.
“Okay, Zelda. I get it.” She disappears again. I wait. A few minutes later, Hannah and Lucy come down the stairs. Hannah grabs the harness. Peach jumps down from the couch and waits with me at the door. A few minutes later, we step outside to start our walk.
I lead the way, urging Hannah to walk faster, but only until I catch a whiff of a scent in the grass. I stop and investigate. When I determine there is no mystery or adventure linked to the scent, I continue forward. Peach walks at her own pace, stopping for her own reasons. Sometimes we sniff the same spot, and our noses meet in the search for the perfect scent.
We turn the corner to make the loop. I haven’t smelled anything exciting yet, but there has to be something along the way. This walk will be the start of a new beginning for me. I am positive.
I hear a dog barking on the road ahead. My ears perk up, but I realize the bark is muffled. The dog is inside a house. Bummer.
Peach is ahead of me, sniffing some flowers. I pass by the flowers in favor of a mailbox post. The post is one of the most popular in the neighborhood. I stop to sniff, but I don’t catch anything new or interesting. When I look up, I notice a large gray bunny staring at me from the yard.
This is it!
I look at the bunny rabbit, devising a plan. The bunny is standing on its hind legs next to flowers in a mulch bed not far from me. I should be able to reach it on the leash. The bunny hasn’t broken eye contact with me. I sniff the air, but I don’t smell a trace of it in the air.
Weird. How is it not giving off a scent?
I don’t have too much time, so I make a decision. Using all my pug strength and speed, I lunge at the bunny. I reach it in an instant.
Why hasn’t it moved?
I try to stop, but my momentum carries me forward. My head knocks into the hard, not furry, torso of the bunny. The force of the blow sends me reeling backward. I shake my head to regain my bearings. I look at the bunny. It is wobbling a bit. I take a step forward.
“What is Zelda doing?” Lucy asks.
I ignore Lucy and paw at the bunny. The bunny is hard. It still doesn’t move. I push harder with my paw. The bunny moves a small amount.
“Zelda, let’s go,” Hannah says.
This time I use my hard pug head to nudge the bunny. It teeters from side to side. I push it with my paw, and it tumbles to the ground.
“Zelda, what are you doing?” Hannah stomps over to me. She picks up the bunny and sets it right side up. “Let’s go home.” She pulls me to the sidewalk, but I walk with a gait in my step and a bounce in my tail on the way home.
When we arrive at our house, I notice Nate’s car in the driveway.
Nate and Ben are home! I run inside and greet them with many licks and sneezes.
“How was the walk?” Nate asks.
“It was good until Zelda attacked a bunny.”
“Wait, what?” Nate asks.
“How did Zelda catch a rabbit on a leash?” Ben asks.
“It wasn’t a live bunny. It was a stone bunny in someone’s yard. You know, like a yard decoration.”
Wait, what?
Nate cracks up with laughter. Ben joins him in the laughter and giggles.
“Only Zelda,” Nate says.
I sit on the floor and stare at Hannah and Nate. Stone bunny? What is that?
Peach grabs a toy from next to me and shakes it. The toy hits my back. I snap at the toy, grabbing a small portion in my jaw. We play tug-of-war. The tug-of-war game turns into chase, and then into pug sprints.
When I collapse much later in my dog bed, I think about the day. I remember knocking over the bunny. I don’t care if it was rock or stone or whatever. I don’t know what that means, but I do know that bunny was scared of me. I close my eyes, happy that I finally had a good day of adventure. More days like this one are ahead!
9
The Hamburger
Summer is ending, and I am excited for my favorite time of year. I love the cooler temperatures of the autumn season. I love the smells and the leaves, and, of course, the squirrels.
It’s been many dark sleeps since I met Squeaks. We lived in a different place then, so I haven’t seen him since the move. He was a good friend for the short time we were together. Now I have Peach, but I’d still love to have a squirrel friend!
Peach and I spend most of the day outs
ide with the family. Nate is fighting with something in the garage. Lucy is on her wheels in the driveway. I run with Ben and Peach in the backyard. Hannah sits in a chair in the sun.
When the light starts to fade, Nate emerges from the garage. Hannah brings some goodies outside to the table. Peach and I go to the table to investigate. I leap on the bench and sniff the table. Much to my disappointment, I smell and see no food.
Peach leaves the table to stand by Nate. He opens the lid on this cooking thing. I can’t remember what they call this thing, but I know delicious food comes from it. I wait for something to fall. Nate opens the top of the contraption, and a tasty smell flies out of it.
Nate is cooking hamburgers!
I can’t get to the hamburger while it’s in the cooking thing, so I back away and jump back on the bench of the table. The meat will end up here before eating time. The trick is to get some before my family sits down. Hannah doesn’t let me on the table. But if she’s not paying attention, I can get onto this outside table. Sometimes Nate doesn’t even shoo me off the table if he sees me on it.
I look at the door. Hannah can see me when she walks from the house to the table. It’s probably better to stay out of sight. I switch to the bench on the other side of the table. I lie down and keep my tail down. Or at least I try to, but my curly tail bounces from side to side.
I can’t help it! It’s hamburgers!
The door opens and closes. I hear Hannah place something on the table. When I hear the back door open again, I peer at the table. No meat yet, but some food has appeared. It looks like bread. I like bread, but it’s not worth risking my chance at some meat.
I lie on the bench with my eyes closed in my pug stealth position, trying to get as flat as possible so I am not seen. After a few more minutes, Nate opens his cooking thing. I listen closely.