It was late September. Storm clouds were brewing over the ocean. The gloom was masked only by the bright lights of the town. Though, I never had the desire to stroll into town. I would only be reminded of the times when the chill of the cold nights would creep of and down my spine. No, I preferred to live at a distance. My joy came from the quite solitude that surrounded my boat. Some might have said I was anti-social. They would probably be right. I sat on the edge of my boat, enjoying the last clear starry, sun painted sky I would see for weeks. I glanced down at my reflection in a pile of rain that encircled my boat. Then, I heard a loud call. “Bandit,” my owner bellowed, “Bandit.” He shook around my bowl. I took off like a hurricane. His cabin was at least a mile away, but in my along time the one thing I could gain was sheer speed, I made it there in about five minutes. When I arrived he stoked my fur, and gave me a nice large soup bone to chew on. I picked up my bone and strutted over in front of the fire. September was a cold month. So I sat down and warmed myself as I ate my bone. After my owner ate his supper, he sat down and serenaded me with some banjo music. It was like a lullaby. I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke at the sound of a thunder crack. It startled me. It startled me so much that I knocked over a chair, and hid behind the leg. Not that that was of any relevance. Another gloomy day was ahead. I went back to my usual spot, and drifted off to sleep. When I woke, an unpleasant wet chill surrounded the cabin. However, the rain had stopped. I glanced up at the grandfather clock, not that I could decipher it, but the sticks hadn’t moved much since I had fallen asleep. I hate mysteries, I proceeded to investigate.  I stuck my muzzle into the crack of the door, nudging it open. It still looked somewhat gloomy, but the sun peaked through the gaps in the clouds. Then, I spotted something in my peripheral vision. It wasn’t familiar. I was almost afraid to look, but as I said, mysteries were meant to be solved.  As I rotated my vision toward the unidentified object I was startled. For standing before me, was a huge beast. It was almost as tall as the cabin. It has large sharp fangs. Its legs were unnaturally large, and, circular, pinned to them were large circular objects, and it had a large, furry, mane. It was indeed a beast. I was about to bark as loud as a fog horn and sound the alarm, when to my surprise my owner, Chuck, appeared from behind the vicious beast. He walked over to me, and picked me up. “This here is good ole’ Philip,” he said, “We’re gonna go for a little ride.”  I did the only natural thing. I kicked like a chicken at the butcher, and didn’t stop. I refused to be toted off by some smelly mutant beast. Though, since I was 40 pounds and only 2 feet in height including fur, it didn’t do much. Chuck placed me in a cage in a box that was being pulled by the “horse” as Chuck called it. Bottom line, words could not display my disapproval. I was being carried off by a glorified donkey.

When we arrived at the border of town, I slumped over in my cage, and tried not to look. As we bumped along the so called roads of town, a savory, delicious smell came to my nose. Chicken, Goose, Beef, you name it, I smelled it. Then I turned around. The mutant donkey had bought us straight to the butcher shop. Suddenly crazy thoughts seemed to rush through my mind. Why am I here? Why would he bring me to the shop? Why is he walking toward me? Chuck unlatched the cage, and picked me up into his shoulder. “D-don’t sell me to the butcher, sell the deformed donkey, he has more meat on him! Please!” I yelped. Then as he approached the door, se set me down. “Now Bandit, say here boy, I’ll be out once I complete my business and we can be on our way” he said as he patted my head. I was more than relived. As I sat there I could see other dogs playing down the alley. As I watched them, I saw a larger dog give his collar to a pup. I sneaked down the alleyway away from the butcher shop. I crept along the shadows of the buildings. I saw the dogs that were playing there walk inside the home that was on the other wide of the alley. However, the pup that was playing with the collar dropped it. I strutted into the open and panted with joy. I slipped the collar around my neck and gazed into my reflection in a puddle of rain. I observed the way I looked in the collar. I liked it. Just then... the pup they called Steele appeared. Though he was only a few months old, Steele was almost as large as myself. Steele growled viciously at the sight of a wimpy dog stealing his father's collar. "Why what do we have here.." Steele snarled, "Just what do you think you're doing?" I tried to reply in a civilized and rational mannar "I..i..i.i..i.." but with no success. It was as if I had become mute. Then, I finally managed to get a word out. "So, this is you're collar?" "No" Steele replied, "This collar, belongs to ten time fifteen mile sprint race winner Desoto the great." "Oh, that's cute," I replied "kinda like Alexander the great." "He's my father," Replied Steele with a most matter-of-face ere about it. "He, he's the big dog standing right behind you, isn't he? That, b-big dog. He doesn't get mad easily does he-" "STOP, Desoto boomed." His voice had the same effect stealth air bombings do. They catch you off guard, and they will most certainly scare you to death, if not literally kill you. "That collar... IS MINE," he growled again. He kept circling me, as if he was a vulture stalking his prey. Then, I realized, I didn't have much time left. I did the only thing I knew. "DON'T KILL ME! PP-P-P-LLEEEASE. DON'T KILL ME.!" Luckily, my whimpers attracted some actual help. Out from the fence by the road strutted in a beautiful Siberian husky. Though beautiful, she seemed as though she was untouchable. "Desoto," she warned," leave, the, kid, ALONE." "Awwww, baby. We was just havin' a little fun now," Desoto compromised. "Oh, now baby, not as much fun as you'll have when the wife finds out you've been flirting with little old me. Have fun with that," she said. I have no idea how, but that chased him off. Apparently every man no matter how much brawn has a weakness. "Hi," she said,"I'm Kera. And you are?" "Bandit." "Fitting name," Kera chuckled," I take it you don't know town all that well?" "You could say that," Bandit replied. “Well, kid. I’ll show you the ropes and also some suiting company” Said Kera.

TO BE CONTINUED.