Fiction writing from the stars, Week 2

As has been my wont over the past few summers, I’m taking some time off from pontificating to write some fiction. I asked my 8th graders to provide me first and last lines for potential stories, and it’s my job to fill in the middle. I hope you enjoy! This week’s inspiration comes from Jacob Klaras.

Where did my dog go? It’s a question I had asked way too often of late.

Barkley was a mutt, no doubt about it. He was also a dummer Hund, as my very German grandpa used to say, referring to the stupid actions this shaggy dog would take. And like many dogs of his ilk, he loved chasing other critters. Squirrels, rabbits, birds, you name it. 

The one thing he was not allowed to chase was any of the goats we had on our little hobby farm. My wife and I had spent plenty of time working that idea into his tiny brain, and it seemed to stick. But as far as the other chasees, I didn’t have the time and usually didn’t care.

We had an old maple tree in our front yard, and it was a gathering spot for many animals, especially the squirrels. They liked to use it as a launching pad to get up on our roof and skitter about. Barkley used the tree as a starting point to begin his daily chases. Most of the time, he returned in no time, but lately, he had been gone for hours at a time.

The tree itself was showing signs of inner rot. A large branch had fallen during one of the ubiquitous wind storms we have in the spring, and I could see the insides didn’t look good. I simply didn’t have the time to take it down since our goats were birthing.

My wife and I both had full-time jobs, her as a nurse and me as an insurance agent. It was hard for her to take off a shift to help with the goats when they were having babies, but she would help if it happened while she was at home. I could rearrange my schedule a little bit more easily, but it was still very stressful.

While Barkley would not chase the goats, he knew how to herd them when need be. Our tiny barn could hold all ten of them, but it got stuffy if they were all in there while one was giving birth, so Barkley would usually stand watch outside to keep the others out of my hair. Now he was off chasing squirrels when I could really use him.

It was only a mile to our nearby town, a burg of about 2500 people. A couple of times, Barkley had made it to town, but both times, he had been corralled by someone who knew he was ours, and a phone call would have me come running to pick up the mutt. I hoped that wasn’t the case now since I couldn’t leave the mother-to-be.

There was a susurrant sound from outside. It could be nothing, but the hairs on the back of my neck were prickling, and I had a feeling a storm was revving up. I could hear the goats outside bleating in worry. Whitney was at the hospital, and here I was without even man’s best friend to help keep the herd in check. 

The wind picked up and I could hear distant thunder. Suddenly, there was a crack from outside, but it wasn’t the incoming storm. I took a moment to gaze out the window and saw that one of the goats had mashed through a board on the fence. This gave the other goats a chance at freedom since they could now jump over what was left. This would be a good time for Barkley to show back up.

What should I do? The mama goat needed assistance, but if all the goats got out, it would be supremely difficult to round them all back up without some being hurt or killed; the highway was only a hundred yards away down our driveway.

I could see droplets of rain start to fall, thick and wet. Another round of thunder got the goats in a panic. I could try to get them in the barn, but that would be tough to do since they were already exploring the potential escape route.

Then the first one jumped. She made it with ease, which seemed to perk the interest of the others. A couple others followed, while some still huddled near the barn door. Behind me, a distressed bleating came from the mother goat. I turned to look at her, then whirled back as lightning flashed outside, followed very quickly by the accompanying thunder.

I went to open the barn door to let the goats in, but the ones who had jumped the fence were headed to huddle under that maple tree. Just before another lightning bolt struck, Barkley appeared on the scene, chasing the goats back toward the barn and safety.

The safety part was because lightning struck the tree and sent it tumbling to where the goats had just been a moment before. Part of the tree hit Barkley’s tail, but he pulled out from under it and made sure all the goats moved into the barn. I closed the door behind the dog as he brought the last one in.

The delivery was successful, but the mess left by the storm would take some time to fix. The tree landed on our roof and took out part of the gutters. That’s why I should have cut down the tree when I had the chance.

Word of the Week: This week’s word is susurrant, which means whispering or rustling, as in, “She enjoyed sitting under the tree near the field, listening to the susurrant sounds on a warm summer day.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!