A Dog Named Bob

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”

(You have 20 minutes to write a post that includes the words mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, and ink. And one more detail… the story must include a dog named Bob)

My dog’s name is Bob. Why Bob? Well, he is kind of like every other dog with four legs and a tail, brownish and smelly, just kind of generic, like my life.

Bob is my best friend, we go to the mailbox together and check to see what mail we didn’t get that day. But it never seems to bother him. Bob doesn’t care if no one remembered him eough to send a birthday card or letter.

Bills, junk mail, coupons for pancake syrup, vitamins and hair colorants are all the same to him. Bob is happy to be there. I just notice the ink that has smeared on my fingers from the cheap print.

One day, I gave him a plate of canned dog food and he just looked at it. Not his usual fare of hard kibble. He wagged and looked at me quizzically, wondering what to do next. Where was those hard, crunchy morsels he always got.

After a while he sat and whined, hungrily. I felt bad for him, but I was trying to give him a treat, a break from the same old grind. The jerk, I would have appreciated it if he had done it for me!

Bob laid down at my feet. I am going to ignore him. He is not going to get the dry stuff after I’ve been so nice to him. A few more minutes went by and Bob seemed happier to ignore it. Ugh, I was going to have to clean off the plate into the garbage disposal, wasted money on Bob.

Then I happened to glance at the label on the can of dog food. There was a bluebird on it. What? Dogfood doesn’t have birds on the label…..I examined it closer. What? “Bluebird Mashed Beets.” I must have picked up the wrong can in the store. Sigh, not the first time I’ve done that too.

I’d just tried to feed my dog beets. Gross! It was reddish brown and slimy with beet juice. I felt horrible, like a bad parent, as I snatched up the plate and put down a bowl of kibble. Bob began to chow down voraciously.

Maybe Bob isn’t so average after all. I think I’ll call him Robert.