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Writing Prompt: I am Dog, but Dyslexics keep praying to me.

Here comes the man in the square truck with the red and blue stripe. The driver, who smells like Pickles, not the vegetable, but this little Chihuahua who lives near the park on Elm Street, stop at all the houses dropping small squares of paper into the boxes. I don’t like the paper because a lot of it tastes like my butt after I lick it. Most days, I sit on the old porch, right next to my master’s wooden rocking chair, sniffing his feet. On special says when Master is due to leave the house, his feet have a different smell. An odor that reminds me of a walk in the woods just after it rains.

The fresh scent of his toes is so much better than when he comes back to the house from the place he calls ‘work.’ He takes off his shoes, and his feet smell like the rustling orange bags of corn snacks. On the perfect days, I enjoy licking his toes to let Master know he is loved by me. Also, he gives me special treats when I do good things like not chase the kids coming home from the school bus or trying to bite the man in the square truck with the red and blue stripe.

If I had a human voice, I would tell the man in the truck that the paper tastes so bad he should be bitten. I can’t speak, other than to bark. Trust me, this dog has his good days. The enjoyable days happens when Master’s friend who stops by the porch on sunny Saturday’s to rub me behind the ears. I truly love when the ladies who like to play games with Master come by the house. Those human females smell like fields of fresh flowers.

One lady, I’m not sure of her name, is really strange. She likes to go into the sleeping room where my Master lays his head at night. They play an odd game on his bed. I may not be a smart human, but I’m not a dumb dog either.

Last week the flower lady came by Master’s house and brought me a new chew toy that tastes like chicken. I guess she gave me the toy because I messed up the game last week between her and Master. She kept screaming, “Oh Dog! Oh, Dog!” So I jumped on the bed and tried to play the game too.

My Master yelled at me in the bad dog voice. I jumped down off the bed. Master even sent me into the other room while they started to play the bouncing game again. I’m not a dumb dog. I remembered the rope on the door. If I use my teeth and pull really hard on the rope, the door will open.

When the flower lady started screaming, “Oh Dog! Oh, Dog!” I naturally came running. My teeth pulled at the rope, opening the door and I jumped on the bed again. I bounced back and forth as my Master’s toes curled, and he screamed too.

All of the screaming is confusing me. The flower lady said I was a bad dog for sniffing her butt, but she seems to like it when Master did it. Maybe in the human world, only humans can sniff other human’s butts. Master used a big word I’ve never heard before when the Flower Lady said, Rex.

I’m Rex.

I know that name, so I barked happily and showed her I could chase my tail.

Flower Lady and Master argued, and he used that word again, he said, “your dyslexic ass is confusing my dog. Stop yelling out!”

Rex doesn’t know that word or command, but I don’t think the flower lady liked it either.

She started yelling.

Master was yelling.

Then I see movement outside the window. I’m also trying to remember where I hid my favorite bone. It’s in the yard. Those squirrels are always in my way. One day I’m going to catch one of those furry guys and make it a chew toy.

The yelling is loud and hurts my ears. For now, I will wait on the porch where the Master put me. He is playing more games, and she is still praying to me, but I’m a good dog. Master said for Rex to stay.

Here I sit, plotting to get the guy in a square truck with the red and blue stripe. I like to hear him yell for help. I don’t know this God he calls out to for assistance, but it is a lot more fun to hear than the flower lady.

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