Canine Capers 6

Today was the quietest day so far, and a little unexpected, to say the least.

After a long morning walk, we were left to our own devices for several hours. Thank goodness! All that cooking and cleaning and tidying up they were doing before they left was dizzying and quite disturbing for M and me.

“Let sleeping dogs lie,” I muttered under my breath.

They did, and we did, so it was all good.

Shortly after they left, while checking every nook and cranny for something to do, M discovered that the door had been left open.

“Wow, that’s a mistake,” he exclaimed, with a gleeful mischievousness in his voice.

And before we knew it, we were outside, way away from where we had begun.

I knew the area. It was the great big open park at the very top of our street, just south of the airport. And I, for one, was happy to be free. Running through the dandelions and the lush grass, leash free, our legs going as fast as they could, our ears and fur blown back in a way that made us look slick and handsome.

At one point, we saw a group of young kids coming in the other direction.

“Do you think they want to play?” asked M.

“It’s doesn’t matter,” I replied. “We have something more important to do.”

Somehow, we found our way to the pet store where there were loads of treats and toys on the top shelf. I tried to reach up, and was suddenly confronted by a large man who asked, “Are you going to pay for that?”

M checked his pockets, which were empty, and we looked at each other before hightailing it out of there.

Once outside, to our surprise, we were in a garden store, standing in front of the gnome section.

“What are we doing here?” I asked incredulously. “Don’t we have enough of these at home?”

But M wasn’t listening. He was staring at me, and then past me at the trees in the corner. It was quite a while before he said anything.

“I don’t think this is right,” he declared. “Those trees are too tall.”

I turned just in time to see the Ficus trees begin to move in our direction.

“Can trees hear?” was the last thing I remember saying before we turned around and ran along the bank of the river. It was good to feel the fresh air in our faces once again.

Overhead, the dark and angry clouds that had been gathering all day were now completely shielding the sun from view.

“I think we should have brought umbrellas,” despaired M. “There’s no shelter anywhere.”

“Too late anyway,” I cried as the skies opened up. But to my amazement, the raindrops were not as one might expect, and I rubbed my eyes in disbelief.

It took a few moments for me to figure out what was going on.

“M!” I bawled. “Quick! Wake up! We have something more important to do!”

And there it was, folks. We super sleuthy detective dogs had deduced that it was raining, in fact pouring, but not in any way you might expect.

No, the door had not been left open, we had not been outside, we had not visited all those places nor run wild and free in the dandelion field.

We had simply fallen asleep and dreamed it all, only to be rudely awoken when one of us — and I’m not saying which one — fell asleep next to the water bowl and accidentally tipped it over, sending water up over and under us, soaking us to the core.

“Come on, M,” I suggested. “We’d better dry off, or when those people come home, they are going to think we've been up to something!”

T