A Day in the Life

A Day In the Life



        It was one of the last dog-days of summer, and boy was it a scorcher. I ran the back of my hand across my brow, freeing it of the sweat that had been building there. As I strolled down the path of the lightly wooded area just outside my neighborhood, my thoughts turned to the new school year looming overhead. It was amazing to think that in just a few short weeks, I’d be a official freshman in high school. It was an idea both exciting and terrifying.

        Snapping out of the daydream, I notice that my on-again, off-again companion, Red, was nowhere in sight.

        “HEY RED! WHERE ARE YA?” I call out. Nothing out of the ordinary, I thought, he’ll probably come limping back soon enough, likely missing a limb or having managed to get a snake to bite him on the nose. It’d be typical.

         A word must be said on Red’s behalf. He’s dumb. Not just regular dumb. Really, really dumb. In fact, I wouldn’t be lying if I didn’t say he was quite possibly the bottom rung on his kind’s intelligence ladder. Now, before people start naming me as a Horrible And Abusive Friend, there’s three things I need to point out. One, Red is my dog. Two, I wasn’t exaggerating. And three, I love him anyways.

         Case and point: One summer day much like this one, we’re out on a walk and Red has wandered off on another one of his misadventures. Suddenly, he comes yelping up in a stumbling run, constantly sneezing and pawing at his nose. How he managed to make his way towards me with one paw never touching the ground escapes me, but it was quite the humorous sight, let me tell you. So I look back to the start of the trail of destruction he left in his wake and spot a disturbed anthill. Putting two and two together to get four, I surmise that Red has, once again, stuck his nose where it doesn’t belong. And judging from the flecks of dirt on his face, half his muzzle as well.

         So he’s at my feet, whining and yelping in pain from his own stupid mistake. I, falling back to what I always do in these situations, simply scratch him between the ears and mutter gently in a tender yet tired way that he’s an idiot. Then, in an instant, he’s as right as rain, tail wagging and all thoughts of ants crawling around inside his nose gone. Here’s the kicker. I watch, and not two minutes later, he winds up taking another nostril full of ants from the same pile.


         And speak of the devil, the big oaf comes bounding out of the brush, his golden coat blazing like fire in the sunlight. And, miracles never seem to stop, unhurt. Several burs cling to his fur, but he’s oblivious to them. He’s undeniably happy, as is his natural state. Ignorance is bliss, and boy whoever coined that phrase sure nailed it on the head. He comes running up, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and tail wagging energetically.

         “Come on, boy,” I say, patting the side of my leg. He obediently falls into step beside me, and we walk together through the woods.  I slip back into my thoughts, content to wander around outside while my mind does the same.  Some time and trail later, I’m pulled back to reality by the realization that I can no longer see my walking buddy in my peripheral vision.

         “Red?” I call, looking back over my shoulder. He’s stopped in the middle of the path, his stance spread wide. His ears are pressed flat to his skull, and his tail hangs still with weighty foreboding. His lip curls back to reveal pointed teeth clenched tight. He begins to let out a throaty growl.

         “Red?!? No, boy, don’t!” I yell, having an idea what was coming. Owning little faith that my words would penetrate his thick skull, I make a dive for his collar just as he darts forward. His restraint escapes my grasp, and I hit the ground hard as he goes galloping down the path, barking like a maniac at whatever unfortunate being he’s caught the scent of.  I pick myself up out of the dirt and give chase.  The lummox outpaces me easily, and I loose sight of him as he tears around the next bend. Soon after, a shocking scream pierces through the din of his howling. (I’m ashamed to admit that the first thought to go through my head wasn’t Don’t let someone be hurt but rather Don’t let that be someone I know.) With that cry came a shot of adrenaline, and I found that I could run faster, after all.


         What I lacked in tracking skills was made up for by having a working set of ears. I find that my quarry had deviated from the trail, and I follow the sounds of his excitement to the edge of a small clearing. I find him propped up on a large oak tree, barking up it with a crazed ferocity that would match that of even the most radical religious zealot. Attached to his collar (And trying futilely to drag him away from his self-imposed crusade) was someone I knew better than I’d care to. Aw, why did it just have to be her?... Maybe I can sneak away before she can sucker me into another one of her inane adventures.

         “Roger! Control your mangy mutt!” Samantha Cooper orders, dashing any hopes I had of getting out of here before she spotted me. I’ve known Sam for a few years; she lives just a few doors down from me. Despite that she was sometimes pretty fun to hang out with, I was still hesitant to call her a ‘friend’. She’s generally more trouble than she’s worth, and on more than one occasion has left me bleeding on the ground. Little did I know, this would turn out to be one such occasion. Still half-considering to bolt anyways, I step forward out of the brush.

         “Oi, Red! Cut it out, you mook,” I command without much actual conviction. Watching her try and wrestle the big lug away was pretty entertaining. Naturally, Red ignores me and goes right on barking his head off. She stares at me with a look that says ‘Well? Is that it?’, so I just shrug at her, barely suppressing a grin.


         “ROGER!” 

         “Alright, alright. No need to yell,” I say, no longer to hold my cheeky smile in. It’s also around now the idea occurs to me that if I just grab Red and go, I might have a shot of making a clean getaway.  It takes both of my hands and more than a couple scolding words, but I manage to haul the hapless hound off. Almost immediately, he adopts that apologetic look all dogs do, the one that says they know they’ve done something wrong, but can’t for the life of them figure out just what. I drag him back across the clearing, and, just as I think I’ve made it out, Sam calls me right back in. 
         
         “And where do you think you’re going? Your filthy dog-” She spat the word as if they were the most despicable creatures on the planet, “-scared Snowball up into the tree, and she won’t come down!” She points up into the leafy oak for emphasis. I let out a sigh and turn back around, shoulders sagging slightly.

         “So? It’s your cat. Not my problem,” I point out, knowing it was a weak argument as the words left my mouth.

         “YOU caused the problem, so YOU need to fix it!”

         “Well, it was really Red who caused it. Why don’t you ask him to do it?... What doya say, boy? Want to go climb the tree and get her cat?” I ask Red patronizingly, and then pause to listen for an answer. It was clear that I was only going to be able to leave one of two ways: either climb the tree or get my eyes clawed out. And not by the cat. And if she was going to guilt me into helping, then I may as well get a little entertainment out of the deal. “Yea, sorry, Sam. He says he’d love to help but-” I hold my hands up and wiggle my thumbs at her, “-he hasn’t managed to develop opposable’s yet. Tough luck, hon,” I tease, beaming like a Cheshire cat.  This causes her to give an explosively aggravated sigh, and even give a small little stomp.

         “Come on, quit being a jerk! I just want my cat back.”

         “Well why don’t you just get her yourself?” I counter, eyes gleaming from already knowing the answer. She mumbles something under her breath. “Sorry, what was that?” It’d be an understatement to say I was merely enjoying this. 

         “I can’t, ok? I can’t climb trees. Now would you just help me? Please?” she asks edgily, her face now flushing a little red.

         “Well, you did say the magic word. Stay here, Red,” I order off-handedly, not really caring if he obeys or not. I strut past Sam, riding high on the fact that I’d manage to get her flustered. She’s often rather hard to rile, and normally able to take a joke and dish a few back. But when it comes to her cat, it’s a totally different story. I first learned that lesson the hard(Read: Painful) way.

She clouts me on the back of the head as I pass, but I duck forward to soften the blow, having known I had it coming. Not that she could see it, but this only made me chuckle and smile even wider.


         I stood at the base of the massive oak with eyes turned skyward, scanning its foliage for any sign of my feline objective.

         “Well?” Sam questions impatiently from behind, still peeved. “Are you going or what?”

         “Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.”  I search for movement in the leaves above a few more moments before giving up. The lowest of the tree’s limbs was just out of easy reach, so I’m forced to jump and grab it. Using the truck for support, I pull myself up onto the branch. “It’s usually only the first one that’s difficult,” I mutter to myself, more out of hope than confidence. This looked to be a pretty tall tree, and if it takes that much effort every one, I’m going to be in trouble. Knowing my luck, the stupid cat’s going to be at the very top...

         “What was that?”

         “Nothing,” I reply curtly before mounting the next branch. My wishful thinking turned out to be right for once; the ascent was long but relatively easy. As I neared the top, I was only just beginning to tire. I began to notice that this high up, the tree swayed ever so slightly.

         “Do you see her?” Samantha calls from below. I look back down to speak back, and quickly regret it. I wasn’t scared of heights, (Not then, at least) but the glance down had been about to throw my balance. Well, at least Red listened to me, I thought with little comfort. Both he and Sam looked like ants from up here, but he had seemed to have simply sat down where he was and decided to watch the show.

         “No, not ye- Wait!” I spoke to the bark that lay inches from my face, not daring another look back down. I stopped midsentence as I saw a dark shape move a few branches up. Motivated by what may have been a meager glimpse of my mark, I pressed upward, putting aside the knowledge that the branches up here were bending in a desperate attempt to support my weight. 

         “Snowball?” I ask meekly into the direction I thought I saw the flash of dark motion. My undertaking is rewarded with a soft mew as a black tabby-cat comes edging out into view.

        Naming a black cat ‘Snowball’. Classic Samantha.

        “There you are. Come to Uncle Roger, you little fleabag,” I croon sweetly, standing up on a branch and reaching up towards it.

        “I heard that!” Sam's voice drifts distantly up from the ground below.

        “Come here, I’ll get you back to... Snowball?”  The tabby tensed up, its claws extending out. “Snowball?!?” Its back arches up, the hair there standing on end. The little devil lets out a vile hiss. “No, don- AAIIIIIEEEEE!” The cat launches itself forward, claws sinking through my tee-shirt and into my chest, lighting up little pinprick flares of pain there. I rock backwards on my perch, not prepared for the attack. My arms windmill desperately in a vain attempt to keep my balance. Just before I fully topple, that demon in cat’s clothing retracts its claws and hops back onto a branch, seeing its job was done.


          I fell backwards into an uncontrolled tumble. It felt like I managed to hit every branch on the way down, but it was in actuality likely no more than four-fifths of them. When I finally hit the ground flat on my back, I knew what it must feel like to be that penny you leave in your pocket that ends up bouncing around the drier. I let out a hoarse groan of pain. Nothing felt broken, as luck would have it, but everything felt busted.

        I watched as Snowball came hopping down branch-to-branch from the tree, right into Samantha’s arms and of its own free will. This put the last nail in the coffin; my pride was now as thoroughly shredded as the clothes I was wearing.

         “Are you ok?” Sam asked with a tinge of sympathy, walking over with my tormentor cradled in her arms. She may have sounded sort of apologetic, but her eyes were dancing merrily. They said I deserved it for teasing her. Not particularly in the mood to form coherent words at the moment, I simply groaned once more.

         “Well, thanks for the ‘help’,” she looked like she was going to continue when her cell began to ring. She quickly fished it out of her pocket and flipped it open with one hand, the other occupied with supporting her precious pet.

         “Hey Mom.... What...?” Her face fell, dark clouds forming in her eyes. “Oh god... I’ll be home right away.” She snapped it shut and jammed it back into her jeans. She began to turn away, her wounded Knight in Not-So-Shining Armor momentarily forgotten. She then paused, remembering my pained existence at her feet.

         “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go. Thanks,” she offered distractedly before turning and hurrying off to who knows where. I simply laid where I fell, unmoving and waiting at my body to stop screaming at me that it’s been abused. Eventually, Red ambled over, deciding that his master needed his special brand of assistance. Planting his tongue on one side of my face, he swept it to the other, coating me with a thick layer of slobber. I sputtered and shoved him away, finally choosing to sit up with a growl as I wiped my face dry.

         “This is all your fault,” I blamed sorely. Red, clearly misinterpreting my accusation, replied by licking me once more. I push him away again, but can’t help but crack a smile.

         “I’ll agree with you on one thing, though... Cats are evil.” Red lets out a ruff in apparent agreement, although that’d probably be giving him too much credit. I let out a tired sigh, somehow achieving a feeling of melancholy over the whole ordeal.

         “Come on, Red,” I said, getting to my feet and beginning to limp out of the clearing, “We need to get home, because it’ll probably take the rest of the afternoon to explain this one to Mom....”






 


(Well, there you have it, my very first submission to Writing.com. I'll be simply elated if anyone even reads this, and absolutely ecstatic to get a few comments. The last few places I've tried I was simply skimmed over. Here's to hoping this place is a bit different!)