Creative Writing: The Rottweiler

A timid dog named Missy must find a way to fight her boredom after she escapes from the confines of her dog crate in an empty house. Since deliberate destruction is off the table for a distraction, she goes on a journey. The Rottweiler-mix faces a few of her multitude of fears attempts to rise above them in order to retrieve her favorite toy.

Missy the Rottweiler lethargically glanced out of her slate gray dog crate and huffed. Why, she thought to herself, do the humans insist on locking me up each time they leave the house? I chewed up that table years ago. Everyone makes mistakes. After surveying the area around her prison, irritated, she quirked her ears in surprise: her owners had forgotten to latch the door of the crate! She nudged

While turning in order to survey her route back to the still ajar door into the house, Missy’s eye caught on a looming shadow. Tensing, she looked at the horrifying misshapen silhouette. Through the distorting lens her fear it appeared menacing and certainly able to lunge at her fast enough to eat her in one swoop. Only the combination of wind shaking the house and a flicker of movement from the monster was able to break her paralysis. Missy startled, barked at the advancing terror, and quickly located what she believed to be the weakest point of the garage door. She didn’t think, she just jolted into the metal with enough force to derail the corner closest to the parked car and wiggle through the hole she created into the outside world. Dashing as if her life depended on her speed, Missy raced away from the monster and its resting place. She barely noticed the bitter wind and rain, but glanced behind her to check if the horror would give chase. Tentatively slowing, stopping, and focusing on her new entrance to the garage, Missy waited. After a few seconds she inched back to the hole and stared inside. With the assistance of her DIY light source, she realized the true identity of the monster. She had fled from a garbage

Sneaking around the corner of the house, she searched for possible danger, found none, and loped towards the towering maple tree. Because she was distracted with both her recent terror and the seemingly deafening scratching noise from the shivering leaves of the tree, Missy didn’t see the rabbit until it was too late to run away. Skidding to a stop, Missy watched her life flash before her eyes. She comprehended her choices clearly: she could run away, or she could save her favorite bone from the clutches of the rabbit. As a loyal companion, Missy had always valued the safety of the things and people she loved over her own security, so she snapped out of her reverie and barked at the disconcerted rabbit, which bolted. Once she was positive the general area was free of other intruders, Missy rounded the tree only to find that she could not locate her favorite bone. Stretching to examine the wet grass more closely, she found one shard of gray matter, and another, and another. It quickly dawned on her that something or someone had taken her favorite toy from her forever. She began to understand the puzzle pieces from the scene of the crime as she backed away sadly and lay down dejectedly. The knife wielding machine that roared louder than even the rain announcing dogs had destroyed the