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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Animal · #1010928
The types of dogs we all WISH we had...
9-13-05

Dog Dreams


“Well, Toby,” Wilhelm said in his worn voice as he dropped into a wooden chair at the dinner table, “This is it. I can’t do nothing about it. The deed’s gone. We’ll have to move out, and ol’ Mr. Meyer next door will get the land.” He reached down and rubbed the head of the Dalmatian sitting at his knee. The dog looked at his eyes. “This is the end.” His aged frame slumped, energy spent. He patted his dogs’ side for comfort.

Toby got up and trotted through the next room to the bedroom and nuzzled the sleeping Precious. She stirred and looked at Toby as he backed up awkwardly. He turned and left the bedroom and she followed.

“Hey there, Girl.” A weary smile played on Wilhelm’s face as the two Dalmatians came up and stared at him. “I guess Toby told you what I said, and you came to cheer me up. Thanks, Girl.” He rubbed her ear and she got a glazed look in her eyes. “Thanks.”

Precious broke from her trance, crossed the room, and scratched on the back door, whining. Toby joined her.

“Okay. Go out and enjoy it while you can.” The door opened and the dogs burst from the house into dull sunlight. Their breath came out in white poofs. Leaves crunched under paw. Browns dominated the scenery. A stillness that is Autumns own welcomed their ears.

Toby’s head went down, sniffing, catching a trail of something. Precious headed toward the eastern fields. Her head went up, she gave a bark, and Toby bounded to her, trying to play. Ignoring him, nose in the air, Precious trotted off, then broke into a run. His perked ears dropped, as did his head, and he bolted after her.

Tearing across sepia fields as only canines can, Toby caught on to where they were going and ran harder. Tongues lolling from mouths, lungs heaving, strides eating ground, the two quickly covered the score of acres to their goal.

Finally they slowed, stopping just across a small stream outside a grove of trees. Toby lapped water from the stream as Precious paced into the grove. Finished, Toby darted to catch up.

Inside the grove the two made for a fallen tree; old, dried out, and hollow. Toby leapt to it, sniffing all around. Precious dropped to her belly, stuck her head into the log, and come out with a dirty envelope in her mouth. On top, Toby yipped and wagged his tail around.

They trotted from the log back through the trees the way they came, then stopped, ears peeked. Crashing broke through the grove, growing louder. The air carried the scent of another dog. Bursting into view came Mr. Meyer’s Doberman pincher, hackles raised, lips curled back showing teeth.

The larger black-and-brown Doberman stopped and growled at the spotted pair. Toby stepped in front of Precious, his own hackles raised. His head turned, he looked Precious straight in the eye, gave a single loud bark, then leapt at the Doberman with a throaty growl, teeth set to kill. The Doberman met him head on.

The fight was one of savagery, backed by thousands of years of animal instinct; each bite lethal if landed full on. One fought out of obedience; the other for the master and home he could not, would not live without. But size had the advantage…

Precious watched but didn’t wait to see the outcome. She twisted and took off like a shot, out of the grove and away toward home. Seconds later, sounds of pursuit touched her ears. Straining, she pushed herself harder.

The twenty acres that seemed such a joy earlier were now endless, the Doberman gaining by the minute. She would have been able to outrun it, except the envelope in Precious’ mouth made it harder to breathe. Ears back flat, she pushed harder.

With the Doberman nipping at her haunches, the farmhouse finally sprang into view. When it did, the attacker dropped away toward his home. Precious didn’t slacken her pace.

Skidding, she slammed into the back door and whimpered.

The door opened. “Precious, what are you doing?” Wilhelm ushered her in. “What’s that you got there?” Taking it, he opened it and his eyes went wide. With awe in his voice, he said, “Why, this is the deed to the farm. It’s a miracle. Where did you get this, Girl?”

She sat slumped, panting hard, at his feet.

“I’ve got to go to town to clear things up. Be back in a bit, Girl.” He grabbed his coat off the wall peg, then turned to her. “Where’s Toby at, Girl? Well, I’m sure he’ll be along.” And he went out the front door.

Precious slunk to the back door and sat. Still panting, she scratched at it, then lay her head down and whimpered, mourning the sacrifice, honoring the courage, her master would never know.


A dream I had last week, Sept 7th.
For a college class. =)
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