Category: Cats and Dogs

Dog Wishes

This story was originally posted on June 29, 2017. I love writing stories about wishes. There are just so many things that can go wrong. I think we often don’t really know what’s best for us. It’s also easy to overthink things.

Did you know that every dog gets a wish? One day the dog fairy comes and asks what they want most. Then, poof! They get their wish, just like that.

Mostly dogs are pretty happy as they are. So, they wish for extra dinner or a sunny day or that someone would scratch behind their ears. The wishes are so easy that they almost grant themselves.

But once there was a dog that probably spent too much time thinking. He would have been happier if he’d jumped into more muddy puddles or barked at a few more people passing by his yard. But instead, he was sitting and thinking, and that was the cause of his problems.

One day, when he was resting in a patch of sunlight, sitting and thinking and ignoring the squirrels dancing around his yard and making faces, the dog fairy appeared. “What is your wish?” she asked.

“Do you know what would be handy?” the dog asked. “Having hands like a human.”

“Is that really your wish?” the dog fairy asked. “You only get one you know.”

The dog sat and thought for a moment more. “Yes,” he said. “That’s my wish.”

“So be it,” the dog fairy said. And the dog had human hands. He held them up and turned them this way and that.

“Thank you,” he said. The dog fairy smiled and disappeared.

The dog stood up. It was uncomfortable walking on his new hands. He tried to stand on his back feet, like he’d seen humans do, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

In the end he carefully picked his way across the yard, avoiding the sharp rocks and prickly weeds. It took him an hour or more to figure out the doorknob. As soon as he was inside, he raced straight to the kitchen.

The dog pulled open the fridge. He knocked down containers and tried to open them. Some things tasted great. Others were terrible. Some containers he couldn’t figure out how to open at all.

He hadn’t even started on the drawers when he began to feel sick. He left everything as it was and hobbled down the hall to Jack’s room.

Jack was his special human, and the dog wanted to curl up on Jack’s bed until he felt better. The dog was grateful that the door was open. He wasn’t feeling up to trying another doorknob.

He jumped on the end of the bed and curled up in his favorite spot. When he looked up, he was facing the mirror on Jack’s closet door. He held up his new hands. They didn’t look right on the end of his front legs.

The dog turned his back on the mirror and hid his hands under his chin. He fell asleep, and while he slept he dreamed.

The dream started out quite nice. Dogs were lining up, asking him to open things for them. Even cats were in line, clutching tins of cat food to their chests and looking hopeful. He used his amazing hands and could open everything on the first try.

But then, they wanted to run a race, and he couldn’t keep up while running on his sensitive human hands. Would he never be able to run again? How would he play fetch with Jack? Did it mean no more walks?

And then he saw the dogs barking softly to each other. When he looked at them, they stopped barking and looked away. A little dog laughed and then pretended it was coughing. His new hands did look strange. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

He woke up when the front door banged closed. Had he left that open? He could hear Jack yelling something in the kitchen. Oops. He’d left a mess in there.

He looked down at his odd human hands. What if Jack didn’t recognize him anymore? What if he didn’t like them? Why did he wish for hands? They were going to get him into trouble.

“Dog fairy?” he barked softly. “If you’re there, please give me my paws back.” Nothing happened. He could hear Jack coming down the hall. “Please, dog fairy.”

His paws changed back to normal just as Jack opened the door. The dog was so grateful, that he told his story to every dog he met, and they told all the dogs they met. The dog spent less time sitting and thinking and more time playing with Jack. And he was happy.

Dogs still pass around the story today. As far as I know, no other dog has wished for human hands.

The Cat. Everything Else Is Incidental

Once there was a cat. Really, as far as the cat is concerned, that’s all that needs to be said. However, there were others present who believe there is more to the tale.

It all began when Grandmother was coming to visit. The family insisted on noisily cleaning and rearranging things, and so the cat slipped out the open door for a little peace and quiet. The cat was quickly distracted by birds and squirrels, and nearly caught her own breakfast.

Alas, the birds and squirrels refused to be caught. Annoyed, the cat returned to her domain, looking for an alternate meal. She was in luck. Mother had made sweet rolls.

Mother would say that she did not make sweet rolls for the cat. They were intended for a late breakfast after the family returned home with Grandmother from the train station. But, Mother was not there when the cat found the sweet rolls.

With a paw, the cat carefully tested the rolls. The rolls in the center were still too hot and gooey. The rolls at the edges were already cold. Just in-between, the rolls were just right. If she closed her eyes as she munched on them, the cat could almost imagine she was eating a squirrel.

After she finished her meal, the cat knocked the pan of sweet rolls to the floor. They were in her way, after all. She looked around. The kitchen was boring. It didn’t have any birds or squirrels.

She knocked the bag of flour off the counter and jumped from the counter into the pile of flour next to the now empty bag.

She rolled in the cold, soft flour, and then stood and shook it off her fur. It was time to look out the window and see if the birds and squirrels had returned to the backyard for another round of chase. Unfortunately, the living room furniture had all been rearranged.

The cat did not like the new arrangement. The sofa was no longer in front of the window. Where would she sit to look out at the backyard? Instead of the sofa, which was always just right, there were now two chairs.

The cat sat in the first one. It was too soft. She sunk into the cushions and couldn’t see out the window. The seat didn’t have a back she could climb on, either. The cat sharpened her claws on the cushions and tore out the stuffing. Even with cushions that were less soft, she still couldn’t see out the window.

The cat kicked the useless fluff to the floor and leaped into the seat of the other chair. It was hard and slippery. The seat was too low for looking out the window. The back of the chair was too narrow for sitting. The cat jumped down from the chair and leaned against it until it fell over. It made a satisfying cracking sound as it hit the floor.

The cat curled up on the sofa, angry that it was in the wrong place. She sharpened her claws on the arm of the sofa and looked towards the window. She could see a patch of blue sky, but that was all. Growling in frustration, she tore her claws through the fabric one last time and hopped off the sofa.

The cat decided to go upstairs and nap in a nice sunbeam. Preferably it would be a nice warm sunbeam in the middle of a nice soft bed. She checked the first room.

The sunbeam was not on the bed. The window was wide open. It was too cold. The cat jumped on the desk and knocked a few things out the window in protest. Then she went to the next room.

The sunbeam was in the right place, but the windows were closed. The cat tried lying on the bed, but didn’t stay long. The sunlight was too bright. It was too hot. The cat knocked the pillows off the bed and shredded one of them, just a little.

The last room had an open window and a sunbeam on the bed. It was just right. The cat curled up in the middle of the bed and fell asleep.

The cat knew when the family returned home. She heard them walking up to the front door through the open window. They were always so noisy when they were outside, and never considered how they might be scaring away the birds and squirrels.

When she heard them go inside the house, she decided it was time to go back outside. Maybe she could catch the birds and squirrels as they returned to the yard after being startled away. She stood and stretched.

Just then, footsteps pounded up the stairs. She heard them pause at each of the other rooms. And then, three faces looked inside the door. “…And here she is,” said the smallest one.

The cat jumped out through the open window and into the tree growing conveniently nearby. She left to hunt for birds and squirrels, and didn’t come back until lunchtime.

The family was left to clean and bake again, this time with Grandmother’s help. Grandmother laughed as they pieced together the evidence of the cat’s busy morning. “She is a cat and that’s what cats do,” she said. If the cat was there, she would have agreed completely.

Once there was a cat. Perhaps that’s really all that needs to be said, after all.

 

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