Short Story Sunday

Dax stared at the steps. The kids would get out any minute and then he could leap and lick and wriggle around them and then they’d walk home with him and they’d never have to go back to the big brick building all summer and— Phew. He was getting ahead of himself.

 He stared at the stairs again, trying not to think about summer but he was so excited and the kids would be too and they could run and play and he could lick their hands when they ate those drippy things on sticks that Christopher said were so tasty and—Dax! He said to himself. If you keep thinking like this you won’t be able to wait for them!

His eyes followed a lone ant that was wandering along the bottom step, looking for crumbs from the last lunches to be eaten on the steps until fall. Dax wanted to chase the ant, to forget about waiting the ages it took for the kids to get out of school, but he didn’t.

He thought he heard feet and he leapt up, barking joyfully, but it was only the mailman across the street. Dax wanted it to be little Jenny or Ron but they weren’t out yet. He put his head between his paws and howled softly. He wanted Jenny’s sticky hands to pet him over and over and say “Oh, Dax! Did you wait for us? Yes, you did! Yes, you did!” and then all the little Mary-Jane clad feet would crowd around and pet him and he’d wag his tail so hard! Or Ron’s freckled face to be thrust into his and kiss him on the nose and tell him how he loved him and he couldn’t wait to play fetch as soon as they got home!

Then the bell rang and Dax sat up as hundreds of feet pounded towards the door. His first summer was going to be absolutely amazing.