Dog and the Bacon By Jonathan Stolow
I`m Dog. As you can see, I am brown with spots. My eyecolor is... Bacon....Wait. Oh yes! Bacon!... Sorry. I mean my eye color is brown. I love playing fetch with Jack, the owners’ 12 year old son, and my favorite food is... Bacon! I smell it! The smell is overwhelming! I HAVE to have some of that... Bacon! “It`ll cost ya $12!” said the taxi driver. All I can think about is that juicy, crispy, brown, savory, mouthwatering bacon! But first I have to say `bye to Owner. “I only have $11.70!” Owner yells to the driver. “Well too bad! Ya can`t purchase a ride then!” “Fine.” He digs out a plastic rectangle that says ‘Master`s Card’. “I only take cash.” Exasperated, Owner hands him some random green paper with numbers. It seems to be what the guy driving wanted. The top of the car says ‘Taxi’. What kind of word is that? Gees, humans. They`re just plain weird. But now`s my chance. If he leaves, I won`t be able to get that bacon! I take it. I trot across the green, soft, smooth grass. It`s a sunny, clearskied day, but I don`t notice. I want owner to stay. Then I can have some...Bacon! So I pant as I get close. A little too much.
But Owner doesn`t notice. “Bye, boy”, Owner says softly. He looks like he`s almost about to cry. I whimper softly, sadly. No! I really wanted some bacon! Now I have to do it myself. Once he leaves I`ll scout out the bacon! As soon as he leaves, I run like a bullet toward the house. I smash through the ‘doggy door’ into the kitchen. Isn`t it nice that they named a door after me? But that`s not what I`m thinking about as I look up. There, what I think is 74 inches up, is a GIGANTIC amount of bacon. Oops, sorry. I guess I forgot to tell you. My owner was measured at 7 feet 3 inches tall. He`s a basketball player. He’s going to New York for a game. So I am definitely in trouble. I can't STAND not having bacon when it's just sitting there. So now let me try to think of an idea for how to get at that… Bacon! I had an idea. What if we put spring shoes on and jump? Huh, huh? I have four feet, so double the bounce! I KNEW you`d agree! And I eat a lot, which means I have a lot of energy! Sorry, I talk really fast when I get excited. Or when I get close to… Bacon! Ready? I got every thing set. Jack tied toy spring shoes to my feet. I even got a tape measure. Okay, here goes. Come on bacon! 6 inches. 10 inches. 25 inches. 50 inches. 60 inches. 64 inches. Wait. I`m not going any higher! No! Don`t fail me! I`m SO CLOSE! NOOOOO! I fall. I am sure glad I put a matress underneath me. But even still I feel a little nauseous.
Okay, that wasn`t enough. I need to think bigger. What gets me higher than spring shoes? I take the shoes off as I think. This isn`t as hard as I expected, with the whole 74 inches thing. But it is NOT easy. I like the idea of springs, but spring shoes didn`t work. What else has springs? I know! A trampoline! And we even have one! I`ll go get Jack. We drag the trampoline on top of the matress. NOW I’m sure I`ll be able to get all that bacon. This time I`m gonna wear a bicycle helmet. Okay, here I go. Wish me luck. 10 inches. 20 inches. 30 inches. 40 inches. 60 inches. 70 inches. C`mon. If I was just a little bigger... NOOOOO! I howl. I didn`t make it. Again.
Final try. What should it be? If only I had a helicopter or a jetpack or a rocket. Wait. Go back! I DO have a jetpack! Actually, it`s a toy. And it`s Jack’s. But I can still use it!
I can almost taste the bacon now! I pull down the leather straps. I`m set. Here I go. 3...2...1...BLAST OFF! The boosters fire up. The metal`s scaldingly hot. I can feel my fur curling up. My multiple feet leave the ground. And I`m up! 20 inches. 40 inches. 60 inches. Time seems to slow down. I stop an inch short. I reach like never before. YES! I got the handle! I grip the cold, hard, smooth, metalic, plastic handel of the pan. I was hoping it would flip off and all the bacon would fall. But the pan sticks like glue. I reach with my paws toward the monstrous morsel of bacon. “I’m so close!” I howl. Actually, it comes out, “I hoh hoshe!” That smell! So juicy. So...Bacony! It`s right THERE! And then in a split second it happens. The smell overwhelms me. I start panting. The saliva makes the metal turn slick. I slip. I`m falling. It takes a second for my smart, dog brain to process what`s happening. It felt like I was pulling the sky down with me. The world should be ending. And then I hit the matress and I faint from exhaustion. I was so close! But that`s the closest I`ll ever get. I`m not going to try again. Or should I? No, get ahold of yourself! And then it hits me. “AWOOOOOOOOH!” I scream, depressed. It can`t be true, but it is. The smell of burned bacon. I slowly drag my sad tail to bed. The smell of burned bacon follows me, tauntingly. I turn around and around in my Doggie Deluxe bed. I finally lie down. I roll over, my eyes watery and my heart in two pieces, cut open by the smell of the burned bacon. And then another smell streams up my nose. No. Could it possibly be? My heart flutters as I look over the edge. Owner must have put it there before he left! There lying there is... (gobble, smack, smack, gobble) Ahhh! Bacon!
The End.