Small Nose, Big Heart

I live in a two story, mundane blue house with a white picket fence that closes in me and my new puppy brother, Harold, when mom or dad lets us do fetch or chase-and-hide I usually am the one who gets the attention. Mary and Jack are five and seven, they love playing catch with me. They squeal and laugh as I nose the ball toward them to throw it, but recently they have been a victim to two-month-old, Harold. Harold would go off searching for something that ought not to be in the mouth as in a live worm.

"Harold no! Bad boy! Drop it." Mary called from across the yard, but this only seemed to encourage him. He wagged his tail like he was having an awfully great time. I sniffed, looking toward Jack, but he was behind Harold. He snagged his color and took the worm out of his mouth. Jack gaged and threw it in the garbage, muttering, "bad boy." I scowl at Harold, what an attention seeker. Of course, a few minutes later he was forgiven, and all the attention was directed toward him. "Good boy," Mary says. "Go get it!" Jack commands. "Who's such a good boy?" They hold his head in their hands and make a disgusting baby voice. I sit down under a tree. What about me?

***

Sometimes mom and dad were so busy trying to get shoes out of Harolds mouth that they forgot to feed me some mornings. I wined, but they said, "oh stop would you Steve?!" I sighed, went back to my spot by the top of the stairs and waited for what felt like eternity until they remembered even old dogs needed their breakfast.

"Did you feed Steve?" Mom shouted at dad.

"No! Did you?"

"Come Steve." Mom called, the smell of her perfume wafting through the air as she entered.

She filled my bowl with dry food and meat flavor packet. She turned on her heels and left. I rushed to the bowl, but Harold pushed past me and began eating my food. Ok, taking my well-deserved attention, I'll get over that, making everything about yourself, I'll get over that, but eating my food, now you've crossed a line buddy. I'm a 60-pound German Shepard and Harold is a 13-pound Golden Retriever, he doesn't stand a chance. I growl, hold him down and scale my teeth on his neck. He tenses and wines. I let him go, hoping this would show him who's boss, but it doesn't. He pounces for the food, so I actually bite him. I bark, and paw at him, but his soft little body is squirming. I bit him hard enough to stunt him for a second. I quickly scarfed down the food. He sighs, but I don't feel bad because he already had breakfast and I know for a fact that Mary and Jack give him treats every morning when they teach him "paw" so either way, I'm not sorry. I know I shouldn't be a bitter two-year-old wondering why such an annoying idiotic dog gets everything I once had. A year ago, they talked to me like I was a baby, but now I'm old and they've grown tired of my face? I would do anything to be my favorite again.

Today I've been sitting in a corner of the living room all day, I'm protesting and if nobody noticed, well that they didn't deserve me, and I might leave. I thought when I got a brother, we'd become best friends. We would be equals, but now all I want is him to be gone. I keep sighing as mom sings "Roar" by a singer I don't care to know; she is cooking something that smells like cheese. Maybe a casserole of some sort. She hadn't even noticed that she hadn’t fed me or acknowledged my existence because Harold kept taking her shoes which resulted in screaming. I thought if I could get rid of Harold, well than I would have all the attention I wanted, but that was a low bar to go to so maybe I'll just run away. I looked over to the door, and then the doggy door that led to the backyard. I waited until mom went to the bathroom, then I sprinted to the doggy door and squeezed my way through. I was getting a little heavier to fit through a puppy doggy door, but I managed. A year ago, I found a loose piece of wood in which I could shimmy through and escape. To be honest, I feel enthralled. Like I can do anything. Being a bad dog is kind of fun. I break for the street; I live in a suburban town that is thirty minutes away from the city of Baltimore. I wasn't sure if it was safe to walk all the way to the city, and even if I did manage to make it there, what would I do? What was the plan? Clearly, I did not think this out. I'm trotting, but I can't help but feel nervous.

I'm still in the town, when I fear a twig break behind me. I am tense, looking back worriedly. I see Harold tripping over twigs and rocks and Leaf’s like an absolute idiot. I freak out, my heart pounding. Why would he follow me? If we both were missing, they would probably forget about me and freak out about Harold. I bark.

"Go back!" I tell him.

"No!" Harlod barks in a high pitch baby voice and I roll my eyes.

"You're going to die out here! There are men with mustaches. They don't shave." I threaten, but this doesn't seem to bother him. He pounces on me, bites my ear and gives me a wet willy. "Can't you stop! You already ruined my life, give me a break!" I scream loudly, but when look around the street, worried that somebody heard that and that maybe a mustache man might pop up.

I had to admit, Harolds face was so cute, his nose small and his heart big. I hate him, he's my rival, but something in me didn't want him to get hurt. I worried that something would happen to him out here.

"Go home," I barked.

"I won't go home without you!" He snuggled up against my shoulder and all I wanted was to go back to the house and play with him, but I knew he would still get the attention, and I hate him. He is my enemy. I don't want him in my life. I will find someone who cares. When I pushed him away, someone snagged a rope around our necks. I felt my neck loose circulation, so I whined. Harold was wagging his tail like whoever was doing this were people coming to visit us on what adults and kids call "Christmas." I thrash, trying to get myself free, but I was trapped. I saw a man in a suit that said, "Stray Dog Services" and those words sent a chill down my back. What have I done?

***

Harold and I were forced into an enclosed space with a metal bar which prevented any escape. They had to shock Harold because the man couldn't get him in the cage. Harold probably thought these were good people; nice people and they were just messing around with him. I worried what Mary and Jack would do what mom calls “crying" like how the clouds tear rain. I didn't want to cause them pain, but I couldn't hide the fact that I was worried about myself. I wanted my mundane life back. Sure, I lived under Harolds shadow, but I wasn't stuck in a place of uncertainty. They had dragged us into a tall building on the outskirts of town and an eight-foot-tall fence covered in barb wire. The building smelled like a hundred dirty dogs that didn’t get washed by their owners. The ones who don’t get washed by sets of small soft hands of your little people. Mary and Jack. The ones who weren't fortunate to be outside on a sunny day and play fetch or get a bone and then hide the bone from their rival. A life without a squeaky ball wrapped in Christmas paper, a world without a person, a home, a purpose. I heard the barks of the dogs who had been trapped in these rancid walls for who knows how long?

"Water! Food! Let me go! I miss my owner! Let me go!" One dog barked deafeningly, and I couldn't help but feel how selfish I was.

I barked, "I'm sorry!"

"I love you," Harold barks softly, bringing his head up to my chest for comfort. Usually, my reaction would be to shove him off, but it felt like home, his wet nose and brown, warm eyes. I saw my life with him, maybe he was just a puppy, but he wouldn't be a puppy forever.

A man shouted from down the hall and with that all the dogs whined as did Harold and me.

"What are you saying?! All these dogs are ours; we found them, and we will sell them for a minimum of one thousand!"

"You stole our dogs!" Jack shouted, I recognized his voice and perked up, I wagged my tail and Harold, and I exchanged a glance.

"I'm sorry, but we can't help you." The man laughed nervously.

"Dad, go tell that sour breathed man that we will call the police if he doesn't return our dog." Mary told dad, but I realized that she was only talking about Harold and not me. My ears went on, I felt tears form in the corners of my eyes. Harold snuggled up against me for comfort.

"Fine! Come he is over here." I heard footsteps on the cement as my family came down the narrow hallway past the barking dogs.

"Poor doggies," Jack pouted.

"Thats him, oh Harold, are you okay!" They take Harold out of the cage and then lock me back up. I wanted to move but I don't think I could go on if I was forgotten. Harold barked, "My brother, I won't leave my brother!!!" Mary tugged his leash, but Harold wouldn't move. He nudged the cage with his nose.

"Oh, we forgot Steve! I'm sorry baby." Mary kisses me on the nose.

Who knew that my one enemy would be the one who would watch my back. I feel filled to the brim with love. Harold might have a small nose, but he still has the biggest heart.