Cookie

(Authors note: This is a story from the perspective of a dog named cookie)

            Who in their right mind would want to be named cookie? Well that is just the name my owners picked out when I was adopted five weeks ago. I’m not even allowed to have any cookies! My owners at dinner time give me food that looks and tastes like meat cereal, while they get to eat amazing foods like steak, or smoked salmon, or pork roast. They aren’t even there all the time. They leave me alone from about 7:00 AM to 3:00 PM, and what do they do to me for those eight hours? Leave me outside, even when it is raining! I hear them say that they will build me a dog house, but who knows how long that can take. My only pleasure during the day is sneaking off through a crack in the fence to see my friend Whiskers the Cat across the neighborhood. We always talk about how our owners are treating us, and how they should be.

            “I really think I’m going to do it Whiskers.” I exclaimed

            “You can’t run away! The humans are our source of food!”

            “The food they give me is garbage, besides; I just can imagine what fresh wild duck tastes like.”

            “How are you going to catch it?” Whiskers argued

            “Come on, it is in my blood. How hard can it be?”

            “Well I guess I can’t stop you, but, Cookie, be careful.”

            “Thanks, I’ll always remember you Whiskers.”

            After my conversation, I devised a plan. After dark, when I am let out to do my business, I ran out through the crack in the fence and into the forest behind my Masters’ house. I ran through the forest, adrenaline pumping, I felt like I was finally free. Free from the animal shelter, free from my tyrant masters, free from the world. I felt like I was a wild dog now. I ran across a road, avoiding traffic and into the deep woods. As I entered, I felt like this would be my home for the rest of my life.

            Soon after, I found a cave to spend the night in. In the morning I felt my belly rumble, so I went out to hunt. After a little bit of searching, I spotted a rabbit, and chased it around for a little bit. I then cornered it, and pinned it against the side of a large tree stump. Then I leapt and caught it. The rabbit meat tasted very good, especially because I was amazingly hungry. I felt like I actually was a wolf who just got a kill. I thought I was completely prepared for the rest of my life. Things were going great, until dusk.

            My stomach started growling again, so I went to hunt for dinner. I looked around, trying to find another rabbit, but none were to be found. I tried for another hour, and I found one. While I was chasing it, I tripped over a branch, and my dinner got away. I was getting less confident every minute after that. Now it was total darkness and no food was to be found. I started panicking. I realized that a meal on time every day was a blessing, not an expectation. I started missing Whiskers, and my family. “My family” I thought. Then that is when I had no doubt in my mind. “I need to go back”

            It is hard enough navigating through a pitch black forest at night by yourself, but it is even harder when you doing it on an empty stomach. Every tree looked the same, every stump, every scent, and every fallen branch. I was completely lost. I was searching desperately for the road I crossed. Then, I saw a light moving fast through the tree line. I finally found the road. I sprinted to it, but right as I was crossing a bright light came screeching behind me. Then, I blacked out.

            I woke up to the rumble of an engine, I felt faint, but I don’t seem to be hurt. I was in the back seat of a car. At this moment, all I could think about is my family.

            “Hey sleepy head.” The man in the front seat said. “I thought I clipped you.”

            I looked out the window and everything looked familiar. I saw Whisker’s house and I knew this man was taking me home. I was excited but if you were there, you couldn’t tell. I was cold, hungry, and tired, but I was going home.

            “There’s your house, Cookie.”

             

The man walked me up to the doorstep, rang the bell, and about a minute later, my master opened the door.

            “I believe this dog is yours.” The man said

            “Cookie!”

My master ran up to me, picked me up, and gave me a big hug.

“Everybody, Cookie has come home!”

Everyone in my house got out of their beds, and ran downstairs like Christmas morning. I never had so much love in my life. And that is why I never will run away from home again.