You Woke Up And Found Him Gone

As soon as I woke, I knew something was wrong.  It was as beautiful Saturday morning.  The sun shot a ray of light right across my face at 9:26am.  I opened my eyes, rolled over to see the clock, and muttered, "ah shit".  Harrold was gone.

I can count on one hand the number of Saturday mornings I have been able to sleep in over the last two years since Harrold entered my life.  That number would be four.  More precisely, the last four.  I rolled upright and threw the top sheet off of me.  My back sagged and I rested my elbows on my knees, head held up only by the strength of my hands.  "Shit," I mumbled again for good measure.  A quick peek over the edge of my bed confirmed my worst fears.  Harrold's bed was empty.  He was officially loose.  Not for the first time, I thundered down the stairs muttering curses.  I grabbed my big baggy red sweater, slipped on some beat up flip flops, and grabbed my phone and a Slim Jim as I headed out the sliding glass door.  My back yard edged up to an open field.  It was an amazing view in the evening as the sun set over the blanket of Sweet Anne's Lace and clover but right now, I would have given anything for a fenced yard.  A path lead through the field and I slowly shuffled down it, casting about for any sign of my dog.

In actuality, he wasn't my dog.  He was my roommate's dog.  Only my roommate had moved out two years ago and somehow Harrold had stayed behind.  I stubbed my toe on a large rock and hopped about for a while, a string of curses flying free in the morning air.  "HARROLD!" I yelled in frustration.  I knew he wouldn't answer but it sure felt good doing it.

Harrold was a dog in only the roughest sense of the word.  Four legs ending in soft paws, lolling tongue, and big brown eyes.  His parentage was anyone's guess.  Some lab, maybe a touch of pitbull, and something else that made him big.  Really big.  Probably part hog given the way he ate.  Luckily, he was a sweetheart most of the time.  Only lately, he had figured out that the back sliding door was busted.  Using his canine wits, he had managed to sneak out every Saturday morning for the last month to go visit the Barkley's about a mile and half away.  They had a sweet little lab that Harrold was in love with.  Unfortunately, she didn't want anything to do with my brute.  I figured the Slim Jim I had in my pocket would do the trick.  And once we were home, I was heading into town to get a new lock for the door.  No more excuses.

By now, most of my morning grogginess had worn off and I was actually beginning to enjoy my stroll.  The field hummed with insects busy doing their buggy things, the wind ruffled the weeds and flowers, and birds darted overhead.  In fact, there were quite a few birds circling above me.  I was just processing that thought when I dipped into a small valley and found Harrold.  He was rolling on his back, smearing himself with something that smelled just awful.  As I ran toward him, I realized that he hadn't found the carcass of a dead animal.  He had found the body of a person.  A very dead, very smelly, person.

"Oh Harrold," I whispered as I reached him.  My eyes were watering from the smell and I had to pull my sweatshirt up to cover my mouth and nose.  Harrold grinned up at me, tongue lolling happily from is large and drooly mouth.

"Oh you dumb dog.  What have you done?" I backed off and dug out my phone.  The Slim Jim fell from my pocket and Harrold pounced on it.  As he was occupied with trying to wrest the meat from the plastic, I dialed the police and waited for the line to be picked up.  I had a sinking feeling that my Saturday trip to town would have to be postponed for a while.