November 24, 2006


Part 3 - Sky High

What'd they call this place again? Getting trapped in a small metal chamber is not a dog's idea of a holiday. And then it suddenly got worse. The damned thing moved. It was if something invisible was pressing down on my back. My legs legs went rigid, my nails instinctively clawed into the carpeting, and my back arched, bracing for the worse.

"It's okay, sweetie," said Molly.

Actually, it wasn't. Look, from what I hear, humans are either primates descended from apes or created in the image of the Lord on High. Either way, a little elevation isn't going to worry them. But we dogs are different. Altitude is for squirrels and birds and other edible creatures, not for the descendants of wolves. Wolves rule the plains and forest floors, and labradors were bred for low coastal regions. Nothing in my genes yearns for sudden ascents.

When the doors opened again, I bolted. Bolted over baggage, under skirts, past knocked kneecaps, over shifting shoes. Mike told me "whoa," Molly cooed sweet concern, several other unknown humans said things like "hey" and "watch out." But I was not to be denied my exit. I shot hot from the menacing metal chamber into another unknown.



I apologize for my long absence and for any worries I've caused readers. Any explanations or excuses would be inadequate, so I'll resist them. Now, back to our irregularly scheduled program.

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