It’s that first whiff that hits you hardest. Like dunking your snout in a puddle of snow-melt when chasing down a tennis ball, you’re overwhelmed with scent information. The first sniff of my two-legger told me she was an adult female, on a really boring diet of too much yogurt, too many carrots and bananas, and far too little pizza. My previous two-legger had been a big fan of pizza. Emphasis on big. Continue reading “Fleegle Votes for Pizza”
Echo was sitting in her studio apartment, polishing her brand new red Doc Martens in preparation for a night out with her friends, when she saw a dark shadowy form of an animal crossing the room on the other side of her coffee table. It looked like a black dog, except that it lacked detail and definition. If her hair weren’t already glued into a Mohawk with half a can of super-hold hair spray, it would have been standing on end from the tingling sensation she felt working its way up her neck.
The shadowy form stopped and seemed to turn and stare at her, then shake its head like dogs do. Echo could actually see the moving shadow of dog ears flapping about the side of its head, but it was all done silently. Was it a ghost? She thought ghosts were supposed to be white puffs of smoke, and she’d heard of shadow people on late-night paranormal radio, but not shadow dogs. On the same show she’d heard about the multiverse theory of the universe. which is that of a bubble bath where each bubble is a universe and there are an uncountable number of universes, some so different from our own that they might have their own laws of physics, others so similar that all the planets might be identical and the sole difference is an alternate history on the third planet from our sun. Sometimes bubbles overlap and air and soap pass from one bubble to the next, and so it is with the multiverse. Either way it was freaking her out staring at her like that, so she took the freshly polished boot in her hand and tossed it at it, hitting it square on. But instead of the boot passing through it, making it disappear like she thought it would, it caught the boot in its mouth, turned and skedaddled. Continue reading “The Rabbit Hole”
The little dog was very happy now that he’d relieved himself. He was in the middle of marking his spot at the park by scratching the grass with his back legs, when he saw what his two-legger was up to and let out a peal of barks in protest. With his hand encased in a plastic grocery bag, the old man leaned over and picked up the dog’s freshly excreted poop which was no bigger than the green goose droppings surrounding it. Continue reading “Rocky”
“We’re on in five,” the show’s producer announced to the crew and guest panel, his eyes on the host, Alpo, making sure he had his attention, and then he wagged his very large, fluffy white Samoyed tail high above his back to the beat of the countdown. “Four, three, two, and you’re on!”
Alpo stared into the camera lens, the lens he loved and that adored him, and flashed his tiny schnauzer canines—exceptionally white against his black fur—at his millions of viewers and started the show. “Good evening, friends. Tonight on Sniff This! it’s the battle of the sexes, or rather, the lack of. It used to be a free for all, every dog for himself. The tasty tidbit belonged to whoever got to it first. But our culture seems to have entered a new era of politeness, where many males are deferring to females, giving up the best seats at the cat fights, even leaving the last bite in the bowl for their mates. I’m not one to not appreciate this new wave of politeness, but it seems to come with a cost. Continue reading “Sniff This! Part Three – A Case of Manners”
When dogs inherited the earth, their society evolved into one somewhat like the human society that preceded it. The television equivalent of the day, a popular talking heads show dealing with current issues, Sniff This!, aired as frequently as the show’s producer could gather a panel of distinguished guests in the studio without any fights breaking out. Biting was tolerated, but breaking the skin was frowned upon. The host of Sniff This! was a schnauzer who wore his fur fashionably long to hide his eyes, which he felt put him at a conversational advantage. His black fur tonight glistened as always under the studio lights as two French poodles groomed him in the moments before the show went live. Continue reading “Sniff This! Part One”
I was living in the perfect city. The two-leggers who called it home with their “I heart Oregon” and “Diver Down” bumper stickers were a bunch of crumb-dropping couch hogs who couldn’t catch me even if they doubled up the batteries in their electric scooters. When it was mealtime I’d head to the nearest supermarket parking lot and pick myself out a nice fat shopper who looked the sort to barbeque year round. They were easy to smell with the scent of animal fat glistening from their pores and they left a stink trail even a puppy could follow in a downpour. I’d watch them go in and then wait for them to come out carrying my dinner. On their way back to their car, I’d tear into the plastic bags and spill their contents across the parking lot, then grab whatever meat they’d planned on grilling that evening. Continue reading “Dirt Mouth”
Gnawing the Bone 