Lily and the White Stuff
There was something sweet, white and sticky all over my face, and I never wanted to stop eating it. The paper tube it came in was empty, but I could still taste a hint of pure joy when I licked the inside. I decided I should probably eat the tube, too. Not as tasty, but I liked the texture. Four out of ten. The human with the soft hands and voice, my new human, didn’t like that. She took the tube out of my mouth. Confused, I grudgingly allowed it.
“Bad dog, that’s not food!”
Bad dog? Ugh, it was hard figuring out what she expected from me. I hung my head, ashamed of my failure. I licked her knee to let her know how sorry I was; I bet she wanted to eat the tube herself. In my defense, she did have her own. It didn’t smell as good, and she only took a few sips from it every now and again, but it was there. She took another tiny sip and patted my head, “It’s ok, Lily.”
Lily. Yes, that was what she called me. She must have sensed my ferocity from our first meeting, naming me after one of the most toxic plants known to dog kind. I aspired to live up to my new name and make her proud. “Ok” was a good start. But was “ok” enough for her to get me another treat? I looked towards the building as pathetically as I could, wagging my tail.
“I’d like more, please,” I barked.
No response. Of course, I’d forgotten she wasn’t bilingual. She was kind, but not very bright. I still loved her more than anyone I’d ever known, even though we’d only been together for a week. How could I not? She stole me from people who collected dogs and left us in cages inside a big echoing building where other humans walked around watching us. It was creepy. I don’t think those humans were very smart, either. They let her walk right out with me. Fools. The place I lived before that was…bad. I didn’t like thinking about it.
But that was in the past, and I had more pressing concerns. Huffing and putting a paw on her leg didn’t help get my point across. She thought I wanted to shake. She liked shake, it was clearly her favorite trick. She was a Good Girl, even if she couldn’t figure out I wanted more of the white stuff in the tube. I whined and leaned towards the door, pulling on the cord she uses to keep me close—she was obviously afraid of getting lost without me, poor thing—but she wouldn’t get up. She’d brought too many things with her on this trip, and they were all over our table. Lots of tasty papers she made marks on with a red stick instead of eating.
I would have gone inside and gotten another treat myself, but the humans in the building must have hated dogs because apparently we were only allowed to sit outside. I waited a few more minutes, considering the situation. The humans inside didn’t know me. I was sure if they did, they’d make an exception out of fear or respect. There was only one way to find out. I tugged hard on the cord and it slipped out of her hands. Success! I bolted towards the door right as another human was opening it with his elbow, cups in each hand. He nearly tripped over me and spilled his drinks. I barked a sorry as I went past.
A human stood behind a short wall, watching me while other humans buzzed around behind her. There were too many loud noises and strong smells, but I caught a whiff of the white stuff. The human looking at me didn’t seem awful. She wrinkled her mouth and eyes in that precious way humans do sometimes when they’re happy and put her hands together. “Awh, puppy! You’re so cute, but you can’t be in here!”
“Neither god nor man is going to stop me from getting more of that white stuff!” I barked, but I don’t think she could understand me, either. Sad.
My human ran in behind me. Shame washed over me again, I’d left her by herself and she was upset. She grabbed the cord and knelt down next to me. Her face was red. “No, Lily, dogs have to wait outside.”
“Then you get us another round and I’ll meet you out there!”
She rubbed my head. “We won’t be able to go places together if you run away like that. You scared me.”
Oh. I didn’t like the thought of that. I licked her face to tell her I was sorry, and I think she understood. The human behind the short wall made a noise that got my human’s attention. “I think she just wants another snack.”
She laughed. “Probably, she pretty much inhaled the last one. I think it might have been her first, she’s a rescue.”
“Awh!!!” Her voice got high. “I’ve got a rescue at home, too. Here, on the house.”
Then, it happened. The human behind the wall took out a clean tube, aimed a different, metal tube at it, and the white stuff shot out. My tail wagged so hard I thought it might fall off, but I knew I had to play it cool. I put my paw up to shake. Both humans laughed.
We went back outside and sat down at our table. My human told me to sit. I did. I barked for her to sit also, and she did. She was learning. She put the tube full of white stuff in front of me.
“Just the whipped cream this time,” she said, giggling as I powered through my treat.
Eventually, she finished putting red marks on paper, gathered her things, and took both my empty tubes. Before I could stop her, she threw them into a metal bin. What a waste. She rubbed my ears when I whimpered and walked me back towards our house. I didn’t pull on the cord at all, and I barked at a few other dogs to let them know this human was taken. I even growled at a strange human who got too close to her—just in case he tried anything funny. She shushed me more than I liked, but we had plenty of time to correct that behavior with positive training. After all, she was my human now and I would always be her Very Good Girl… unless she tried to get between me and that white stuff again.
THE END
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1 comment
Aw! I loved this! I wrote a dog first person for this weeks prompts but I am just kicking myself after reading yours. Love the dogs perception of her human, and a creative way to incorporate the prompt. Nicely done! And welcome to Reedsy!
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