By The prompt for this week was to write about lost things. I did not intend this prompt to be whimsical but a lot of the stories turned out that way – including my own. That being said, there were some very personal pieces that were shared that were very well done.
This is based on a true story from many years ago. I don’t what Bear did when he escaped but he did just hangout in the front yard and was waiting for us. We put a lock on the back gate after that to make sure there were no more surprise escapes.
Lost Thing
The gate, I think it is open. Creeping towards it I nudge it with my nose. Creeeeeek. I jump back with a yip. In the world beyond mine, beyond the yard, beyond the gate a scent reaches me. I twitch my nose and creep towards that opening.
I slip through the crack in the gate. Following the tempting smell, there, a rabbit. It runs, sprinting forward low to the ground and I give chase. Moving faster and faster, almost there and it slips under a fence. A hole too small for me to follow. I whine, pawing at the fence. I just wanted to play. I cock my head, maybe it will come back.
Squirrel.
The little guy runs up a tree before I even get a chance to play. Why is he chittering at me from his branch? I haven’t done anything. Wanting to make friends is not a crime. Overhead a hawk cries, looking for breakfast. That’s the one to watch for, not me! The squirrel vanishes into the canopy.
Plop, plop, plop.
I perk up my ears searching for the source of that odd sound. There, hiding next to the mailbox that has so many interesting smells is a big frog. He stares at me and I stare at him. Maybe he wants to play? An insect buzzes by and snap, it’s gone. Snatched up in the monster of the maw of the frog. You know, I think I’m okay not playing with the frog.
Maybe mom will play with me. I need water anyway and breakfast. Maybe I can have extra breakfast for all the energy I used this morning. I mean I took myself on a walk. Following mom and dad’s scents I find our door. They don’t hear my whine and barking is for lesser dogs. With a sigh I curl up on the rug, I’ll just rest my eyes.
“BEAR!”
My name startles me but not as much as being squished. Mom really likes cuddles. I sigh as she squeezes me tight.
“Don’t do that to me.” She says in a stern voice I know she doesn’t mean but I don’t know why she is mad, I’m home for breakfast. Besides, I’d miss my bed.
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McGee Travel Tales 