I jumped off the porch and loped across Barry Schmelly Road into my yard. As I drew closer to my house, I detected a strange odor. I slowed to a trot and then paused, nose tilted toward the sky. The scent was both familiar and unlike anything my nose had encountered before. It grew stronger as I followed it into the house and upstairs to Mrs. Angleton's bedroom. I stopped dead on my paws, stomach sinking. All of Mrs. Angleton's angel tchotchkes had been swept from their shelves and lay shattered on the carpet. The pillows had been dragged off the bed and chewed, and the stuffing was scattered everywhere. Family photos had been knocked from the dresser and the curtains pulled from the windows. Anyone making a mess like this would have awakened the dead, but the house was silent and the air lacked the aroma of wrath. Mrs. Angleton did not yet know anything had happened. Her bedroom was the last place I wanted to be found. But, how could I, in good conscience, leave without investigating? I was the Angleton family protector after all.
I padded to the picture frames and sniffed deeply. The scent was stale with a sharp chemical smell like air from a broken air conditioner. Sometimes humans say a thing is otherworldly, but I never understood what they meant until then. Puzzled, I padded over to the curtains, smelling those thoroughly.
Forever later, I cocked an ear to listen for Mrs. Angleton. I heard the tick and bumps of the house, but all else was silent. Too silent…
Silence is boring. Plus, Rover was obviously guilty because he was the only thing—animal, plant, or mineral—that didn't like me. Now, you might think I was I didn't have enough evidence that Rover was involved with the destruction of Mrs. Angleton's bedroom. He, himself, was trapped and there was another smell corrupting the crime scene. Well, I'm a dog and as such, my keen instinct was the only proof I needed.
I spun on my paws and galloped downstairs, through the living room, off the porch and back across the street. Rover was still trapped in the porch railing. I barreled past him, running head-first into the doggy door. Caught by surprise, he didn't bark until my third try.
"Ha. It's one way. You can't get in."
"Watch and learn."
Meat Head the Worst Dog in the World will be posted here in easy to read increments. Read for oldest to newest if you haven't been following along.
Can't Wait to find out what happens next?