A Dog in the Rain

A short story.

When was it last that I had kibble in my bowl. When was it last that I lapped up a drink of water. I wanted to play. I wanted a place that wasn't so hot in the day and so humid at night. I wanted my toy, the silly yellow lizard with the squeaker in his tail. I wanted the furry little creature in the tree to come down and say hello. I wanted the little kids who would tease me and throw rocks who would run away in shrills when I would bark. I wanted a chain loose enough so that I fully stand up. I wanted my friend back. His happiness was my happiness, his sorrow was my burden that I carried on my shoulders. I wanted my friend back. But there was only me, the tree and the chain.

I’m not a bad dog. There was such a big commotion. I couldn't be a bad dog. They all left in such a hurry. Maybe I'm a bad dog. All these rumbles make me feel scared. I think I'm a bad dog. There is no table for me to hide under. I'm a bad dog. The tree will keep me safe. Bad dog.

There is no more blue, only grey. The rumbles become louder. No longer do I stick my tongue out for no purpose, I try and get any precious drops that fall off the tree. I become wet. The wind starts to howls. I howl, but the wind is louder. All of the rain picks up. I come as close as I can to the tree. My feet are in a puddle. I lap it up. I am no longer thirsty, just cold. It keeps coming down. The water gets higher. I keep my nose above it. I want my friend. I want to live. But there is only the tree and the chain.