Dogs

The true nature of dogs might surprise you.

“God, I hate children!”, I sigh as my hands wander around my dog’s neck, trying to attach the flowery collar. “They’re always running around and screaming. Don’t they have anything better to do? That’s why I, personally, prefer to walk at night. It’s better, it’s calmer and it guarantees that you won’t encounter anybody.”

 

The brown patch of wool that is my dog releases an exhausted sigh as well and sits down. It is a common habit of hers, to sit down on random occasions.

 

“Get up, we have to go for a walk you know.” I say the last part slightly louder, so my mother, relaxing in the living room, can hear it. 

 

As usual, my words remain unanswered, only a slight echo ricocheting through the white hallway. After a slight fight with the key, the door finally opens wide and I pull the dog after me. Coquette as she is, she pulls back, refusing.

 

“Moooooom, she doesn’t want to go.”

 

“Stop with the theatricals and go already”, she scoffs annoyed. Her words a followed by the faint sounds of our old trusty TV. 

 

I pull the dog with more force and we head outside. The dog’s paws emit a silent tapping as they rhythmically hit the ground in petite steps. In times like these, my dog reminds me of an elegant horse, except more hairy and less elegant. Despite the sound being comforting, I block it out with my headphones, radiating music to the outside. Another perk of walking at night �" no one can judge you for listening to music or having others listening to your music. 

 

The night air is fresh, despite the highway nearby. The yellow lamplight casts many shadows of different size upon the concrete ground.

 

I look up and smile as I recognize the only constellation that I know �" one of the dippers. Which one stops to matter once the happiness of seeing one blocks out the rest of thoughts, just like the music blocks out the surroundings. Robotically, my feet stomp on the ground synchronising with the beat coming out of my headphones. Then my back starts to shiver. 

 

From around a corner, I notice a cloaked figure approaching us. While the night is certainly fresh, it isn’t fresh enough for a cloak. As such, a more or less big, cloaked silhouette coming closer seemed at the very least off. Remembering the motivational videos that I saw that day and in order to assert dominance, I decide to walk by with dignity. Preferably at a higher pace than the usual relaxed walk.

 

Several meters before the figure, my dog decides otherwise. She stops and her curious nose touches the ground around a tree. I break a sweat as she, having finished her nosy investigation, starts doing her business.

 

I see the figure, now alarmingly close, pulling something pointy out of their pocket. Panicking, I signal with my eyes to my dog, that maybe, just maybe, we should hurry. 

 

Relief flushes over me as she finishes her business and I pull at her collar. Although a social citizen, I feel ready to abandon her “business” for the sake of getting farther away from the cloaked figure. However, I feel resistance from her. I pull, she pulls, I pull harder, so does she. With fearful tears in my eyes, I think about the dogs in media. Those always help their owners out of difficult and partially lethal situations instead of putting their owner in said situations. I knew I should’ve wished for a fish or something for my birthday.

 

“You traitor!”, I hiss as she starts wagging her tail, “Shame on you!”

 

The figure’s legs now start moving slower, the hand elevating the pointy thing above their head. 

 

“Come on, please!”

 

She does a tiny step towards that figure.

 

“Don’t you f*****g dare!”

 

Another tiny step.

 

“You’re gonna get us killed!”

 

She sits down.

 

Dreadfully observing the figure and, gesturing to the dog, I whine: “Can you imagine that?”

 

The figure doesn’t react to my call for sympathy and continues approaching me. Their steps and appearance now mockingly slow. At that rate, perhaps that figure’s point wasn’t entirely killing… 

 

Desperately I yank the dog after me and run, because my life depends on it. I didn’t care about the dog probably getting hurt (serves her right for such behaviour). Hurt is better than killed I reasoned. 

 

“I’m back!”

 

“That was a fast walk.”

 

“The dog refused to go any further. You know how she is sometimes.”

 

Author's Note

I wrote it yesterday night and edited it today. The story is partially based on real events.
Feel free to critique!

Reviews

[Kim S.]

Such an emotional read, I love dogs. I have three Boxers, imagine walking 3 dogs at once? I have a big backyard that is fenced in. This is nicely written, i enjoyed the descriptiveness and imagery.

[Raschel]

Thank you!

[Kim S.]

no problem