From Fink with Love

5/26/13 – Story #26

(A re-post of a short story told from a dog’s perspective. The underlined words denote those given randomly as a writing prompt with the stipulation that all had to be incorporated into the tale.)

 _______

At it again… he’s at it, again! Cooking time!

Fink followed his moist and always-in-trouble nose. His nails noisily clicked against the floor, obliviously scratching the ship’s wooden planks leading to the galley. He was a canine on a singular mission:

I must go to the delicious smell.

Rounding the counter and several pairs of feet, Fink planted himself in an expectant stop—rump down with tail thumping.

Where’d the roast go?

The corpulent man who did the cooking of meats was not there. Cocking his head slightly at the mystery of it, Fink lifted his nose and gave a good sniff. The delicious smell had moved. So he raised his rump and followed it.

He held his head high, keeping track of the roast’s path. When met with more pairs of feet, he wove his way around until he couldn’t.

I am an official dog. I belong to my Cassie, and my Cassie belongs to the Captain. Please, move.

The man did nothing. So he repeated himself.

I am an official dog. I belong to my Cassie, and my Cassie belongs to the Captain. Please, move.

The man just stood tall and still. Sniffing, Fink made sure he was a man. Indeed, his nose told him so, but he was a little off. Feeling a twinge where leaks appear, Fink didn’t give a second’s thought. Lifting his leg, he leaked on the totem of a man.

The man shouted, “Bloody hell! Get that dog!”

Fink ran down the corridor, between legs and around feet. Someone tripped over him, and panic ensued. It was a merry chase.

This is fun! Catch me!

They eventually did, but his Cassie wouldn’t let the men throw him overboard.

Was I bad? I’m sorry. Can I have meat now?

His Cassie didn’t pet him like she usually did, and food time came late. He was sent back to his room. It made Fink sad and his insides hungry. So he lay down and closed his eyes.

I must go to the delicious smell.

Fink opened his eyes, ready to follow his moist and always-in-trouble nose.

“You’re such a naughty thing, Fink!” His Cassie bent down to scratch him everywhere he liked. “Here, don’t tell the Captain.”

Fink looked up at his Cassie and then at the roast and bone she put in his bowl.

I love you.

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