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Danny Escapes

Is she gone yet?

FREEDOM! At long last, I was free for a short while today. I’m Danny the Dog and I write about my adventures in these pages. For the neophytes in the crowd, I’ll explain that I live on a boat with my human (whose name is Andrew) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. To set this story up correctly, I’ll have to go over some previously disclosed material.

Every morning I take Andrew for a walk, and when we return, he ties my leash to the dock. There is a bowl of water and the leash is twenty feet long, so I have no problem with that because I like sitting outside in the cool of the morning. To thank me for talking him for his walk, he gives me a hotdog every morning (yummy, my favorite!). And then he lets me sit outside until the sun comes fully up. And as an extra bonus, I get to bark at Duke and Little Guy, two dogs that live across the water on the other side of the marina. Can you believe this? Every morning they have the effrontery to come out of their boat and take their humans for a walk. In my marina!

Now on to the great escape.

Our routine is this: I’ll sit on the dock until I’m good and ready to go in. Then I’ll give my one bark command and Andrew will come out and unclip me from the leash. I then proceed to the back of the boat and go down the gangplank. It works for us, but this morning I had another idea. You see, on the way back to the boat, I had detected an enticing scent. It was some sort of human food. But Andrew would not let me get near it. And the day I can’t outsmart Andrew is the day I’ll turn in my membership card to the canine race.

What I did differently this morning was to smile at him when he unclipped me and then I lay down on the dock. I put my chin on my front paws; I looked so cute. It gets him every time. I looked like I wasn’t going anywhere. So Andrew told me he’d give me five more minutes, and then I had to come inside. His big mistake was in not re-attaching me to the leash. As soon as the door closed, I was outta there.

I headed right for the scent I had discovered earlier. What I found was scrumptious. I don’t know what it was, but it was delicious.  Then I thought to myself, as long as I’m out and about, I might as well do a little exploring. First, I would go and visit my friend Beth. She always has a kind word for me, rubs my head, and best of all, she gives me a goodie. She must not have been on her boat because I did not see her. So next, I trotted a few boats up the dock to call on Lloyd. His treats aren’t as good as Beth’s, but he’s a good guy. He wasn’t home either. This was getting ridiculous! Where is a dog supposed to cadge a free treat? Then it hit me, Dave and Peggy’s. They live with Duke and Little Guy, so if I can let those two curs live in my marina; the least their humans can do is feed me. Maybe if I looked real cute and sad I could con them into giving me something special.

No dice, no one home. Then I heard it, the voice of doom. “DANNY! DANNY!” It was Andrew calling to me. I don’t know why he does that. I have never responded in any way, shape or form to his calling me in the entirety of our acquaintance.

I saw him before he saw me and ducked behind a car. I let him pass, still calling my name, and then I headed in the opposite direction. That was my mistake; I should have stayed hidden. Andrew turned and saw me and yelled very loud, “STAY!”

I don’t know what came over me, but for the first time in my life, I obeyed him. It must have been something in his voice. I think he was a little angry with me. And I was re-leashed up before I knew it.

Well, that’s the story of my career as an escapee. Andrew was a little ticked off with me, but after I sat through his lecture about running away, I still got half a hotdog when we got home. What a sucker he is.

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Danny Gets Rained On

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I’m in a foul mood today, so this communiqué will be short. It’s been raining for three days and three nights, and one more day of this miserable weather and I’m going to have Andrew build us an ark. Well, maybe not, seeing as how we already live on a boat. “We” being myself, Danny the Dog and my human, Andrew.

The thing about rain I don’t like is that it’s wet. It soaks your fur; it keeps you inside when you could be out chasing cats or running down a tantalizing scent. And to top it off, it brings thunder with it. And I don’t like thunder! Another thing I don’t like about rain is that one has to go outside to do one’s “business.” Hey . . . I can hold it. I’ll wait until it’s dry outside, but Andrew insists that I go out at least twice a day, rain or shine.

When it’s raining, Andrew puts on some sort of yellow getup that keeps him dry, but does he have one of those things for me? Nope!

So for three days now he’s forced me, against my will, to go outside with him in the rain. If I knew how to use a phone, I’d report him to the Humane Society. But I show him. When we come back, I jump up on the bed and roll around until I’m dry. I don’t mind wet sheets, but for some reason Andrew does.

So here I sit at his computer. The big lummox is in the bedroom reading a book, and I know with a certainty that he’s going to come out here in the next few minutes and say, “Okay boy, let’s go for a walk.” And I’ll be thinking, “Okay human, how about I just bite you instead?”

Here he comes. I’ll let you know tomorrow if we went out in the rain or I bit him.

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Danny Goes to the Beach

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What a time I had yesterday! I went to the beach with my human.

Good morning, I’m Danny the Dog, teller of tales, bon vivant, all around good dog and lover of hotdogs. And oh yeah, my human’s name is Andrew. Now that you know the players, on to my story.

As I’ve previously written, I like to wake Andrew up early and take him for his walk before it gets too hot. And I like our walks because there’s a whole lotta good sniffing out there. But yesterday it was Andrew that roused me from a sound sleep. I was dreaming of hotdogs. I was about to bite into a big, fat juicy hotdog when he shook me awake. I almost bit him.

Anyway, he told me we were going to the beach to watch the sun come up. When we walk, I lead the way, but when we go to the beach, Andrew drives the car because I don’t have a driver’s license. Can you believe it? Florida doesn’t give dogs driver licenses! I emailed the governor about this injustice, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. I know that not having thumbs would be problematic, how would I grip the steering wheel. But I figure I’ll worry about that after I get my license.

Sunrises, and sunsets for that matter, don’t do much for me; they have no scent, you can’t smell them. So what’s the big deal? But I allow Andrew to take me to the beach because I have my own agenda. I love to bark at other dogs. The beach we go to is secluded, and dogs are not allowed (another email I must send to the governor). However, dogs take their humans there in the early morning and as long as everyone is gone shortly after the sun comes up, there’s no trouble. And it’s a good thing for the human cops because if there was trouble I’d bite them.

So we get to the beach and Andrew sets up his folding beach chair. He’s such a wuss; can’t he just sit on the sand like everyone else? Me, he ties to a palm tree. Then he waits for the sun to come up. What does he think, it’s not going to come up unless he's watching?

As I said, I have my own reasons for being there, so I start my nose a twitching. I can smell another dog from a mile away. If I were a super hero, I’d be known as SUPER SNOOT. I would sniff out my nefarious nemeses and bring them to justice. I think I’d look cool with a cape. I look good in blue, so it would be blue with a big red “D” emblazoned right in the middle of it. Danny the Dog, mild-mannered dog by day, SUPER SNOOT by night! I like the sound of that.

I digress, back to my story.

So Andrew’s getting excited because the sun is coming up (what a surprise!). And I’m sniffing for dogs when all of a sudden I detect something good, as in chicken-bone good. So I put my super snoot to the ground and start my search. Of course, being SUPER SNOOT I find the bones right away. They were only a few inches under the sand. But before I take one of those delightful bones into my mouth, I give Andrew a surreptitious glance to make sure he isn’t going to ruin my fun. I needn’t have worried, his attention was on a red ball coming up out of the ocean, turning the clouds a bright pink and orange; some clouds were still purple. So he was engaged. That’s when I bit into the first bone. CRUNCH! At the sound, Andrew turned and saw my find. I didn’t know the old guy could move that fast. He was out of his chair, and before I could do anything about it, he had my whole stash. At least I had half a bone in my mouth and he wasn’t going to get that.

The short of it is, I distracted Andrew from his precious sunrise. He took my bones, and I didn’t get to bark at a single dog. What a bust! On the ride home, I didn’t go over and lick his face as I usually do. I was mad at him and he was mad at me. But when we got home all was forgiven and he gave me a hotdog. That’s why I keep him around.

My next adventure will be published in SUPER SNOOT Comics. Look for it at your local comic book store.

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Danny and the Terror

[caption id="attachment_1048" align="alignnone" width="225"]Is she gone yet? Is she gone yet?[/caption]

I’m back! It is I, Danny the Dog, everyone’s favorite dog. I took a few days off from my writing chores so my human, Andrew, could use the computer. He had to work on some book he wrote. I told him I’d do it for him, but no; he said I don’t write in the same style as he does. Well duh! I’m so much better at writing than he is.

If I remember correctly, in my last story I told you how fearless I am. And I am fearless, however, I have a story to convey that I am not proud of. At first, I was not going to tell you about it, but Andrew says that if I’m going to write about myself, I have to tell of my foibles as well as my strengths. I didn’t know I had foibles, but if I do, perhaps I should see a vet and have them checked out.

Well, I’ve dilly dallied long enough, here’s my sad tale (no pun intended).

Andrew has this friend, a female friend. Yeah I know. I too was surprised that he had a friend, let alone a female friend. But during my long life, I’ve been witness to stranger things. So this friend, whose name is Suzanne, came to visit last week and she brought her dog with her. Now, I am peaceful dog, I come from a long line of peace loving dogs. In fact, my father was so peaceful, he only bit the mailman once a week. But as all of my canine readers will attest to, when a new dog comes onto your turf (or boat in my case), you have to assert your dominance. And in this instance, that was not going to be a problem.

The little critter was tiny. I wasn’t sure if it was a dog or a hairy rat. Andrew, knowing my ways, tied me to a tree so I couldn’t get to the little monster. But I wasn’t giving up. I barked my head off and strained against that insidious leash. And ultimately my efforts paid off, but now I wish they hadn’t. I was tied to a thin branch and it finally broke, freeing me to go and teach that interloper a lesson. I wasn’t going to hurt her, just let her know who was boss.

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I ran full force right at the little thing, and instead of cowering or running away as any normal small dog would do, she turned and faced me, bared her teeth and started barking at me! I was so unprepared for this turn of events, that I screeched to a halt (and this is the hard part to tell), turned tail and ran. I ran right to the boat, jumped inside and hid under the bed. And do you want to know what the worst part was? As I ran, I could hear Andrew laughing his rear end off.  Or as you puppies would say, LHAO.

The conclusion to my sad story is that eventually I made friends with the little terror. Her name is Maui, and for a little female rat dog, she’s not a bad sort. But she does tend to boss me around a lot.

And as for Andrew, he will never let me forget it. Sometimes when he’s at the computer, he’ll break out laughing, turn to me and in a sickening, sugary voice say, “How’s my big brave doggie doing?  You better watch out, there are a few mean looking cats around.” I could just strangle him at times.

I have to be going, I have an appointment at the vet’s to get my foibles looked at. Until next time dog lovers.

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Danny and the Alligator

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We slog through the antediluvian swamp, a diaphanous mist rises from the quagmire and a miasmal stench fills our nostrils. The authorities are pursuing us, though we have done nothing wrong. Well, Andrew (my human) has done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, bit a man, a big fat, obnoxious slob of a man. He had it coming to him; he said I was the ugliest dog he had even seen. Me, Danny the Dog!

After I bit him, he pulled out his cell phone and called the cops, but Andrew and I didn’t stick around and wait for them to show up, we hightailed out of there. Now we are hunted fugitives, with the law closing in. Andrew always told me I’d go to Doggie Jail if I didn’t mend my sorry-ass ways.

They are close now; we can hear their voices, so we pick up the pace. But the going is slow. The water is up to Andrew’s knees and up to my chin. We maneuver around a large cypress tree, and there, before us, is the largest alligator I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s the only alligator I’ve ever seen. It has to be eighteen feet long if it’s an inch! Its mouth is wide open, showing the enormous teeth of the monster. I stop short and Andrew, who was behind me, trips over me and falls into that gaping, cavernous mouth. The alligator makes short work of him; now all that is left of my human is his right arm and part of his left leg.

alligator

Just kidding folks, Andrew is always telling me I can’t write fiction. I thought I’d show him I could. However, we did meet up with an alligator the other day and I would like to tell you about it.

Actually, there was more than one encounter. The first was three days ago. We were walking in the park where we go every morning. Let me stop and back up for a minute. As most of you know, Andrew and I live in Florida, and the park we go to has a sign saying, “No Swimming because an alligator lives in the lagoon.”  Andrew and I never believed it; we had never seen hide nor hair of an alligator. Do alligators have hair? Anyway, back to my story.

It was before daylight and we were walking along the lagoon when we heard a croaking sound, a loud croaking sound. I was intrigued by it; Andrew was oblivious, as usual. I was pulling on the leash and Andrew was a million miles away, probably wishing he was getting laid more.

As we neared the sound, Andrew came out of his coma and said to me, “Where do you think you’re going? The croaking sound that you are rushing to is made by an alligator and you would make a very fine breakfast for him.” Then he yanked on the leash and started to pull me away. I, in turn, tried my passive resistance thing, but to no avail. I was unceremoniously dragged from the park. I started to walk of my own volition only after we were outside the gates.

That was day one. On day two, we heard the croaking again, and as Andrew has given up any hope of getting laid, he heard it at the same time I did. So we left the park tout de suite (that is French for right away, all at once . . . fast).

On day three (this morning), I finally had my encounter with the alligator. It took some maneuvering, but Andrew is easy to outfox. He was intent on picking up mangoes for our neighbor Peggy and he laid the leash down for a moment. That was all I needed. Before he could stop me, I was tearing along the shore of the lagoon, hell-bent on getting to the place I had last heard the croaking.

I rounded a curve at the far end of the lagoon and came face to face with the biggest alligator I’d ever seen, the only alligator I’d even seen. He was not as big as the one in my fictional account, but still, he was big enough for me. I started to bark furiously, knowing my barking would drive him back into the water. However, a funny thing happened. He stood his ground, and he even took a step or two toward me. That, I hadn’t counted on. My first impulse was to turn and run back to Andrew, but that wouldn’t do. Then I’d lose the upper hand that I enjoy in our relationship.

While still energetically barking, I was wondering what my next move should be when the matter was taken out of my paws. From behind, Andrew snatched me up and started running for the street. I squirmed (but not too hard) letting Andrew know I did not appreciate being taken away from my quarry.

On the way home, Andrew told me that I would not get my daily hotdog when we returned home. It was to be my punishment for running away and scaring him half to death. But when we got back to the boat, he gave me my hotdog anyway and scratched me behind the ear. What softy he is.

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Danny and the Mangoes

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This morning I took Andrew, he’s my human, out for a walk before the sun came up. We were out hunting mangoes for his friend Peggy. Well, he was hunting mangoes, I was sniffing some great scents, but more on that later. I’m Danny the Dog and this is the story of my adventures in mango collecting.

Andrew and I collect mangoes for Peggy, and she in turn makes mango muffins, mango pies, mango chicken, and Andrew’s favorite, mango ice cubes. He uses them in his vodka drinks. Humans, there is no accounting for the dumb things they do, especially Andrew.

During mango season, we go out every morning in search of the elusive mango. Actually, they are not that elusive. They’re lying on the ground, but Andrew has to make a big deal about it. You would think he was in Darkest Africa stalking a mammoth rhinoceros.

So, this is what transpired this morning, actually, it’s the same thing every morning. We walk to the park where there are a few mango trees and Andrew picks up the mangoes that have fallen during the night. To carry the mangoes, he has these plastic grocery bags, which he fills up and they get heavy. Of course, he has me on a leash because if he didn’t, I’d be all over the place. Picture Andrew trying to manage two heavy bags loaded with mangoes and trying to manage me straining on the leash.

On the walk back, I stop at every mailbox post, stop sign and clump of grass where a dog had been before. There is even a fire hydrant. When I sniff it and then raise my leg, Andrew always says it’s a cliché. I don’t know what a cliché is, but if it means good sniffing then he’s right.

Ordinarily Andrew doesn’t mind waiting for me while I do my exploring, but when he’s loaded down with mangoes, he gets a bit impatient. And that’s where the fun comes in. I take my time doing my sniffing until Andrew can’t stand it anymore and tries to drag me towards home. But I plant my feet and refuse to budge; I always win. Andrew sighs and stands there with the weight of the bags pulling on his arms until I’m good and ready to move on. They are small victories, but necessary if I’m to keep Andrew well trained.

Well, I have to go now, Andrew and I are going over to Peggy’s for some mango chicken and maybe if I’m a good dog (which I seldom am), some mango pie.

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Danny's Dilemma

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To run or not to run, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To paraphrase Billy Shakespeare.

Howdy folks. it's me Danny, we spoke the other day. If you remember I was talking about my friend Andrew and how at times he made me sleep out on the deck of our boat. So today I'm here to talk about outrageous fortune. No, not the sleeping outside. Don't tell Andrew, but I like it. Feeling the ocean breeze on my fur, smelling the salt water; it's good for a dog, and let's face it I am a dog.

The outrageous fortune of which I speak is the insidious leash the sonavabitch makes me wear. I mean really, just because I've run away a few times he thinks I can't be trusted. I'm a big boy, hell I'm ten years old for Christ sake! I can go out catting (excuse the expression) around at night and still make my way home all by myself.

So here's my bitch. He doesn't use a regular leash like any sane person would use. No, he's gotta use a line from the boat, a twenty foot long line, or rope to you landlubbers out there. I mean it's demeaning.

The other night we went to a local biker bar. Andrew doesn't like going there because he's a sissy and he thinks the bikers will beat him up. Me, I love the place because the biker girls always crowd around me and pet me and tell me how cute I am. I know that, but it's always nice to hear, especially when it comes from women with multiple tattoos claiming they belong to Big Bear or Grunge or whomever. It makes me feel special.

So there we are, Andrew is sitting by himself, naturally, and I'm the star of the show with the females of the pack, naturally. Now, because Andrew does not trust me he has me tied to a post (it's an outdoor bar). It was then that it happened. One of the girls, whose name was Suzanne, the prettiest girl in the bar that night, felt sorry for me and unclasped the leash. Well partners, I took off like a bat outta hell, but I didn't go far. I just wanted to teach Andrew a lesson.

I ran around to the back of the bar and hid under a small tool shed, and there I stayed. I watched that fool Andrew walk around for hours calling my name. He passed within feet of me about a hundred times. And the best part was when it started to rain. I was high and dry and 'ol Andrew was soaked to the skin. After about four hours, I felt sorry for the guy, and seeing as how it had stopped raining, I let my presence be known by one single bark.

To cut the story short, I miscalculated. I thought if I made him look for me and then showed up on my own, he would forego the damn leash. But it didn't work out that way. Now I find myself tied up 24/7, unless I'm taking Andrew for a walk.

So, in conclusion to quote another great writer, Robert Burns, "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, often go astray."

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