A Box of Weeds

A Little Help From My Friends

My aching feet pounded the sidewalk, as I outran the enemy. I heard them coming behind me. Heavy work boots hit the ground hard. I looked left, then right. There had to be somewhere to hide from their evil intentions.

I saw it. A gap in the latticework on the porch of a house. I could squeeze in there and hide until they left, but if they saw me go in, I’d be trapped.

I made my mind up, and dove in the open spot. I couldn’t run any longer. I scurried to the far end and silenced my breath, my tongue hung awkwardly out of my mouth as I did so.

They approached. Two of them. I could see them through the gap. Overweight, red-faced, tired. About the same age as my old roommate Ron, before he kicked me out. They didn’t look so scary now or threatening. Until one of them did the unexpected.

He tossed something into my hiding place and smoke quickly invaded the clean air. A smoke bomb. I made a run for it, and tore out of there, nearly knocking one of them over, and took off in the opposite direction down the street. These guys meant business and I wasn’t about to be caught by them again. You can only take so much of being locked in a cage.

“They’re after me!” I yowled as I came across my own kind playing in a rain gutter. Soon, the enemy was surrounded, the street became a chorus of growls and snarls.

The two men knew they were defeated. “We’ll be back!” They promised as they returned to their big truck, with a logo of dogs in cages.

“Stupid dog catchers,” my friend Pojo sneered.

“I know, right?” I laughed, free at last.