A Plain, Ordinary Dog...?

Submitted for Contest #41 in response to: Write about an animal who causes a huge problem.... view prompt


May 13, 2020

Adventure Fantasy Kids

I have a dog. Just a plain, ordinary dog. He’s a German Shepherd named Boxer. He’s a relatively young dog, and completely simple. He likes to play fetch, and he’ll bark at the mailman. He loves to go for walks, and if we can sneak him table scraps, he’ll gobble them down like any other plain, ordinary dog. 

I live in an ordinary family on an ordinary street in an ordinary town in Maryland. I go to a normal school, and I have normal friends. I have a normal routine, and I do it today- wake up, feed Boxer, get dressed, and run out the door to catch the bus. As I plop into my seat, I look towards my house and see Boxer with his paws propped up on the couch, barking and watching the bus pull away from the house. I wave, and to my surprise, he waves back. 

“Hey, Nathan!” my best friend, Cody, shouts, fighting his way through the sea of ankles on the bus aisle floor. He nudges me a little with his hand, and I scoot over, towards the window. He drops down next to me and grins, showing a slight gap between his teeth. He has dark brown hair and shaggy bangs that hang over one of his green eyes. We look kind of alike, except I have black hair and no bangs. 

“Hey, Cody,” I reply, jostling his shoulder with mine. I don’t tell him about Boxer’s wave as the bus tumbles slowly down the road. 

When we arrive at Harriet Tubman Middle, we are the first ones off the bus. That’s pretty impressive, seeing as we were in the back. We throw down our skateboards- our moms won’t let us ride from our houses- and glide up the long path toward the steps. Yep, just an ordinary day.


After school, the bumpy bus drops me off in front of my house. I rush inside to find no one. 

I shrug. Maybe mom and dad just had to work late. I stroll into the kitchen and grab an apple from the plate on the island. Suddenly, I turn around, because I noticed Mom’s computer was open to a Google Doc. I frown. Mom never leaves her computer running- she always tries to save energy. I peek at the doc and gasp, seeing who it is addressed to. 


This is Boxer. Yes, your dog. I have a lot of explaining to do, but it will have to wait. I am in trouble and I need your help. Take your skateboard, my chewy toy, the box of treats, and your father’s belt and come down to the alley down the street from your house. There will not be anyone there. Go down the alley until you reach a tall metal fence. Knock on the fence once, three times, then five times. Two dobermans will answer. DO NOT RUN OR TRY TO GET PAST THEM. I need your help and I need you in one piece. Tell them you are here for me, and then follow them. Do not speak. Be respectful. Hurry! 



I stare at the computer. There was no way Boxer knew how to type! But, a little voice in my head protests, he waved to you. He knew what he was doing. 

I sprint to my room and grab my drawstring backpack before heading back to the kitchen and stuffing it with the items Boxer wanted. Then I hop onto my skateboard and surf down the road, twisting once I get to the alley. I see the fence about twenty yards away, and it is so tall my dad could not touch the top if he jumped. I gulp and glide down to the fence, step off my board, and knock once, three times, then five times. 

Like Boxer said, two Dobermans appear. They are sporting red collars and have identical snarls. 

“Human!” One snaps. “What do you want?” 

“Turn back now,” the other snarls, his voice much deeper than his companion’s. “Or we will make you.” 

“I’m sorry,” I say humbly, my eyes pointed at their feet, “but my dog is in there! Boxer?” 

The Dobermans exchange a glance, their snarls fading. “You are Nathan Schnider?” the high voiced one demands. 

“Yes, sir.” I keep my head down. I read that if you look dogs in the eye it is a sign of aggression, so I want to be as submissive as possible in front of these two. 

“Come with us,” the deep voiced Doberman snarls. “Do not try anything, or you will regret it.” 

I carry my skateboard as we begin to walk down the alley. On this side of the fence, the walls are heavily graffitied, but not with spray paint. These walls are graffitied with paw prints and dried splashes of mud and water. There are drawings of all kinds of the tougher breeds of dogs- Rottweilers, Dobermans, Pit Bulls, and even a couple of wolves. 

Finally, we reach a large clearing. There are dumpsters lining the back wall, and seven or eight dogs just lying around. I spot four Rottweilers, three Pit Bulls, and only one other Doberman. The two Dobermans that led me in stop beside me and stare at the largest dumpster before each of them let out a sharp bark. 

My heart races, and I stare up at the dumpster, which begins to shake slightly. Suddenly, a huge Rottweiler appears, sporting a lime green collar, drooling jaws, and sharp fangs. Two Great Danes stand at his flanks, and they push a dog out in front of them. He skids a little and lands on the pavement with a snarl. 

I gasp. Boxer! 

Boxer catches my eye from where he lays.  He smiles a little and gives a short nod as the big Rottweiler begins to speak in a low, rumbling voice. 

“What are you doing here, boy?” he rumbles. 

“I came for my dog,” I reply as steadily as I can. 

“Tell me your name, boy,” the Rottweiler demands. 

“Nathan Schnider,” I say obediently. Never in my life did I imagine I would be taking orders from a dog! 

“This is his boy,” one of the Great Danes, a dark gray one, tells the Rottweiler in a quiet voice. 

“Do you know who I am, boy?” the Rottweiler demands, the drool seeping down his lip as he snarls at me. 

“I do not,” I tell him. My heart is pumping so hard and fast it feels like it is going to force its way out of my chest and land in front of the snarling Rottweiler. 

“My name is Bruno,” the Rottweiler barks. “I am the leader of this dog pack. Your dog has done something to upset me, and that is why we stand here today. Do you understand, Nathan Schnider?” 

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, staring at my feet. My hands tremble at my sides, and I clutch the bottoms of my sweatshirt to steady them. 

“Do you know what you have to do, boy, to get your dog back?” Bruno demands. 

“I don’t,” I reply, my voice shaking slightly, as I picture pulling back and fighting off the pack with my father’s belt. How would I win against so many pairs of teeth and claws? 

“You have to beat my pack in a fight, and you may take your dog.” Bruno’s drooling, disgusting jaws curled into a grin, and my heart sank. “Would you like to say any last words to your dog? If you lose, we have to keep him.” 

I dive down to Boxer’s side and run my hands through his fur. He licks my face, and a tear slips down my cheek. “What are we going to do, boy?” I whisper. 

“Don’t worry,” Boxer murmurs back. He bends his mouth to my ear and mutters the plan. I nod and stand, wiping my face like I’m wiping a tear, and pull out the belt. I slip a few treats and Boxer’s toy into my sweatpants pocket and crouch like I’m preparing to swipe with the belt. 

“Go!” Bruno barks. 

All of the dogs, except for Bruno and the two Great Danes, plus the two guard dogs, lunge for me. I yank a treat from my pocket, and they all skid to a stop. 

“Who wants one?” I yell. 

All the dogs start to bark. I whip around and throw the treat, and it goes flying into an open dumpster. All the dogs jump in, and I slam the lid down and throw a rock on top. The dogs bark and howl and whine, trying to get out, as I turn to face the two charging guard dogs. 

“You cannot get us with those treats, boy,” the higher-voiced Doberman barks as he runs toward me with his partner. I pull out the toy, a squeaky bone made of black rubber, and the two guard dogs skirt to a stop. I throw the toy over the back wall of the clearing, and the dogs scramble to climb the dumpsters and jump over the wall. 

Bruno lets out a loud, angry bark. “Grey! Mak!” he snarls, pushing the two Danes forward. This time, I rear back and slap their legs with the belt. Not too hard, though. I’m not a monster! 

Grey and Mak scramble backward, whimpering, not wanting to get any closer to my belt. Bruno lunges, but I whip the belt again, and it hits him on the nose. He lays down, whimpering. 

“Leave my dog alone,” I order. “Bad dog, Bruno. Bad dog.” 

Bruno says nothing. 

Boxer stands and smiles at me. I pick up my skateboard, and we start to walk back to the fence. 

“Good job, Nathan,” Boxer murmurs. “I suppose you’d like to know what happened?” 

“You know, Boxer,” I say, looking up to see the sun shining down on us, “not at all, really. You’re you and I’m me.” 

Boxer smiles. “Thanks, Nathan.” 


I sit up in bed, gasping. Boxer is asleep on the rug next to my bed. 

I sigh, smile, and shake my head. Nope. It would be another ordinary day today. What a dream.

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WOW, amazing story megan!


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02:51 Aug 04, 2020

This story was amazing, Megan! The way that it was a dream at the end actually surprised me. I thought that it would just be a crazy fantasy story. Great job! 😊


Megan Sutherland
02:58 Aug 04, 2020

Thank you!


02:59 Aug 04, 2020

You're welcome!


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