In Charge

Looking around, the dog nodded. Wilmer sighed, and started forward.

He didn’t like this, having to walk someone else’s dog. Especially a dog so demanding, so clearly used to control. But that was life with his boss.

The dog crossed the road, Wilmer close behind. She sniffed at the sidewalk, at the lawn in front of the house, then turned up her nose and carried forward. When the leash tugged, and her throat felt the collar, she stopped, turned, and glowered at Wilmer.

Wilmer apologized, and hurried to keep up.

She took him all around the neighbourhood, a walk of nearly 2 hours. Every side street, and every lawn sniffed. When he finally returned, the boss was annoyed at the time away, and made sure to give the pup lots of treats.



There was no pet so loved as Princess.

Every day, Dave woke at 5. He cooked her a fine breakfast of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast with peanut butter. Then he took Princess for a long walk.

Dave left for work at 8, taking Princess with him. He had negotiated a place for her in his office – beside the window – and after the long walk, Princess curled up and slept.

He took Princess out for a lunchtime walk, and gave her many treats before her return to her bed.

At 5, Dave left work, walking Princess home. He then cooked her a meal – often chicken or steak, sometimes salmon with a fine hollandaise, occasionally something more interesting.

Princess then watched the nature channel for a few hours, Dave beside her giving her her nightly massage.

One last walk before bed, then sleep on a king-sized bed, Dave curled up at her paws.

No Escape

There was no escape from Warren’s love.

No matter what you did, where you hid, Warren would find you, cuddle up, and fall asleep next to you. His big sad eyes, floppy ears, and occasionally lolling tongue meant you just had to accept him.

Even as the kids were playing hide and seek, Warren’s nose would find them, and the seeker would see the big dog lying somewhere, and know. The games were short, but you couldn’t help but love Warren for his love.


Dog Costume

Conan sat in his little Sherlock outfit, his tail poking out the back. He was unimpressed.

His owner was happily talking, and the treats were lying around. But the costume was a nuisance at best, and awful at worst. He had tried to scratch it off, but had no luck. It was stuck fast.

So Conan sat, annoyed, unhappy, and waiting to punish his owner for this slight.


Hermit Dog

Hermit Dog saw the people.

Hermit Dog ran away.

Hermit Dog saw other dogs.

Still, Hermit Dog ran away.

Then Hermit Dog saw a squirrel.

Hermit Dog ran after squirrel.

Hermit Squirrel ran away.


Walking Time

“Come here, Tiny, time for a walk!” Elisha called.

The dog looked up at Elisha, uncertainty clear in her eyes.

“Come on,” Elisha said. She grabbed the leash and shook it. “We’ll have lots of fun!”

Tiny looked behind her, considering her options. Go for the promised fun, though nothing yet had been so fun – or stay home and sleep on the couch. She needed a moment.

“Oh, come here you,” Elisha said. “We need to go out and have a walkies.”

Tiny was still thinking.

Elisha sighed, then grabbed a treat. “Here, come and you get this.”

Tiny’s eyes perked up. When put that way, she thought…

Tiny walked forward, and Elisha clipped the leash on. She held the treat still, and Tiny knew she had been tricked once more. No treat until they were outside, and even then it was uncertain. Next time, Tiny thought, I must resist. But she knew she wouldn’t.


Interview Skills

Darren sat across from the committee. The space between his chair and the table was vast, a chasm that weighed on Darren’s mind. He didn’t like it, but couldn’t say anything.

“And why do you want to work here, Mr. Richardson?”

“Well, I like the business, it really suits my background, but seems to, um, offer opportunities for creativity and innovative pursuits.” He was struggling, he knew, but what can you do?

As the committee scribbled on their paper, a head poked out from under the table. Nose to the floor, the dog made its way over to Darren, taking a zig-zagging route. Darren watched the dog come toward him while the committee wrote.

When it reached him, Darren checked to make sure they were still writing, then bent over. He offered a hand to the dog, who smelled him. Approving, the dog offered its back for scratches.

Darren checked again, and noticed one of the members was watching him. He smiled as he stroked the dog’s back.

“Are you a dog person, Mr. Richardson?”

“I am. I had one growing up. I’m looking forward to adopting one, when I have the resources.”

Everyone was scribbling again, while Darren kept petting.

Finally, he heard someone say, “I think that’s everything. You’re our last interview, and the only one to show such initiative. You’ll receive your employment contract in a few days.”

Darren raised his eyebrows in surprise: one question and he got it. He looked at the dog, whose tail wagged. He smiled. The dog seemed to smile back.

“Thank you,” Darren said, rising. He said goodbye, both to the committee and the dog, then left, humming to himself.


Work Like a Dog

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Darcy called. “You know what day it is?”

“Pancake day?” Wyatt asked.

“Taco day?” Leslie said, his voice hopeful.

“Pay day, finally?” Melody said, bitterness in her voice.

“None of the above!” Darcy said, her smile wide. “It’s Work Like a Dog Day!”

Everyone groaned, and looked around.

“Can we get out of it?” asked Leslie.

“Nope! So, on the floor everyone, and no more words! Barking only!”

“Boss, I really don’t think this is as beneficial as – ”

“No more arguments! Ruff ruff!” Darcy lowered herself to the floor and started to crawl around on all fours.

The rest of the office sighed, and started moving their monitors down.


Dog Days

With the dog days of summer upon them, Hugo decided to adopt a dog.

There was no tip-off, other than the weather announcer – to call him a meteorologist is a disservice to meteorologists everywhere, though the new anchor did so every night – announcing the beginning of the dog days of summer. But it was all Hugo needed, for he had been planning this for some time.

At the shelter, the dogs looked sad and lonely, and they didn’t pull Hugo’s heart strings.

At the breeder, the dogs looked purebred, with all the associated health and mental problems therein. Hugo passed.

It was just as he was giving up, then, that a dog presented itself. A stray, this dog was clearly a mutt. It could have been part Chihuahua, part Malamute, and part Retriever, but there could be some Collie and some Beagle and some Newfoundland mixed in there too. He couldn’t tell; no one could.

But the dog found Hugo as he walked home, and followed him to his door. Hugo invited the pup in for a drink – the dog was panting heavily, and looked like it needed the cool of a basement – and from then on, Hugo had a dog. He quickly had her spayed, got her shots, and cleaned her up, and they were the best of friends.


Take Me Out

Garfield scratched at the door, needing out. Liz looked up from her book.

“Really Garf?” she asked. “I just took you out, like, twenty minutes ago!”

The dog looked at her, pleading, and she sighed. “Okay, hold on.” She walked to the door, pulled on her shoes and a coat, and grabbed the leash. Garfield spun around, excited now.

“Just a quick one,” Liz said, clipping the leash on his collar. She opened the door, and Garfield went running out, pulling her along behind him.

They reached the edge of the lawn, and Garfield immediately squatted and peed. The relief on his face was clear, and Liz was glad she had capitulated to his desires. It had been quite some time since the need to clean up dog pee inside, but it could still happen, she knew.

Liz was about to turn, but Garfield was now on the sidewalk, pulling her along.

“What? You want to walk?” she said. Garfield turned to her, eyes pleading. “Fine, but only a short one.” She followed him, and his nose went to straight to the ground.