Fiction: "Just Dandy"

Stories about animals which might be silly,weird, nonsensical or just plain interesting.

Fiction: "Just Dandy"

Postby threenorns » 19 Feb 2012, 08:47

You might suspect it's a bad day when the head of your axe flies, straight and true, off the handle, through the hole, and into the river below three inches of ice.
You know it's a bad day when you then get that sickening feeling as the ice drops then settles beneath your feet. Freeze! Don't move! Don't. Even. Breathe!
Too late.
So now I'm standing in the river with burning cold water filling my boots and the ice gouging in where I've wedged tight at the hips. Frozen in shock, I look like some weird Canadian backwoods statue thrusting my bladeless axe toward the sky. Only the fact that I'm packing enough blubber to keep an Inuit family belching contentedly for a month stops me from passing out instantly from hypothermia.
“Dandy!” I call out. “Here, boy!”
This is when, in the movies, my dog would come to my rescue. Dandy is pedigree Border Collie mixed with the tall, dark, and clearly handsome stranger who crept in the bedroom window one night while her guardians slept. I named my dog for his cute little tuxedo markings.
Now, Border Collies, you see, vie for top position with the Standard Poodle as the world's smartest dog. In the movies, my best friend would, disregarding risk to life and limb, come creeping across the treacherous ice with something – a rope, perhaps, which I would then tie to his collar before he made his way back to shore. He would circle the willow stump before braving the perilous journey back and I would then use the rope to pull myself to freedom. I watch my brave, loyal companion as he dances over the snow, prances down the driveway, and trots without a care in the world down the road and across the bridge to go visit his Golden Retriever girlfriend.
I'm sure there are some people in Mexico who didn't hear me swearing, cursing, and bashing the ice with my axe handle.

I stop. I'm shivering pretty badly now. I don't try to suppress it – it's Nature's way of attempting to increase my body temperature. Add that to flushing with embarrassment and I'm doing pretty okay.
Good grief, listen to that: every time he goes over there, he races up and down the fenceline while she paces him on the inside. Bark, bark, freakin' bark – idiot dog.
“Come and git yer damned mutt!!!” rides in on the arctic breeze.
Piss on 'im. I'm a bit busy. I don't reply.
“I'll shoot that blasted animal, ye don't keep him inside your fenceline!” floats over the next blast of driving snow. I have an image of myself breaking free like one of those monsters from an old Japanese movie and stomping over there to get my dog - Godzilla wearing an ice tutu. I giggle. I must be getting used to this weather; I don't feel so cold any more. In fact, I'm almost comfortable.
Bark, bark, bark. Shut up, you damn dog. More trouble than you're worth. I'll get myself out of here without your help, thank you. Just need to rest a moment... gather my strength....
Growl, growl – I open my eyes to see something big coming at me over the snow, snarling catlike as it leaps toward me. Dandy is chasing alongside it, trying to herd it away from me. I hold up the axe handle; it's my only defence and a pretty pathetic one but no way am I going down some mountain cat's gullet without a fight!
“Stuck, are ye?” I shake my head sharply – it's my neighbour, dressed in enviably cozy winter gear, swinging his leg over to dismount his skidoo. No, not at all; it's the latest beauty treatment from Finland. Asshole.
“A bit,” I reply. He tosses me a rope but I can't catch it – my fingers won't close properly. He shakes his head, pulls it back, then throws a loop that settles down around my shoulders to land on the ice around my waist.
“Git it up unner your pits,” he commands, and I do my best.
The skidoo makes short work of getting me out and he packs me off to his place. I'm sitting by the fireplace wrapped in a fluffy robe and a threadbare duvet, my feet in a bowl of lukewarm water, and a hot cup of chicken soup in my hands. I stifle a shriek as a horde of fire ants bite into my defrosting flesh when he kneels in front of me to pull up my feet, one at a time, and examine them dispassionately.
“Might lose the bottoms of your feet but they'll grow back. Toes look okay. Fingers, too. You're lucky – that's a good dog ye got there.”
I have to be honest: “He wasn't saving me – he just came over to play with Molly.” My neighbour was very still for a long moment, then “Molly isn't here any more. Hadta put her down nearly a month ago.”
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Re: Fiction: "Just Dandy"

Postby pilvikki » 19 Feb 2012, 13:14


:clap: :clap: :clap:

i likes your stories.
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Re: Fiction: "Just Dandy"

Postby threenorns » 19 Feb 2012, 17:15

thank you! =)
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Re: Fiction: "Just Dandy"

Postby Yogi » 21 Feb 2012, 13:45

OMG - that was one awesome story. Thank you for sharing it with us. :cool2:
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