Pete(4)‘Intervention Plan’ (Young adult; adventure/sci-fi)
January 23rd 2008 00:24
"I know what you're saying now!" Bluey told his master anxiously. Only it came out as six short barks. "I under-stand you!" Four short barks—dogs do understand one-syllable words like names and commands, not sentences though, let alone the meaning. It was too much for a blue heeler’s brain to handle at this stage of development. "Yelp! Help!" Bluey suddenly turned-tail, and ran.
"Bluey, what..." Tomas didn't finish the sentence, Bluey bolted in the direction of the track home.
"What's wrong with yah dog?" Toby blurted.
"Don't know, never seen him go on like that before." Tomas’ freckled face was creased in a frown. “I better go home and check him out.” He then turned to his friend. “Can you take my bag to school and tell Mrs Booth I might be a bit late.” Jane Booth the fifth-grade teacher is very strict about punctuality.
"Yeah sure," Toby assured his friend. "You go."
Tomas turned to find his captain, now standing at the front of the group. " I'm going home to check Bluey out, Pete," Tomas told him.
"I think you better," Pete Brooks agreed, he'd never seen a dog go on like that either.
Bluey didn’t stop running until he reached the safety of his yard, then dived straight under the house and crawled to the hiding-spot between two brick footings. This is where he came when in trouble from Tomas' father for digging holes or bringing home some tasty morsel home he'd found. This time though, the trouble was much worse, and for the first time in his life Bluey was really scared—waking up in a cave/ the strange map-thing appearing in his mind/understanding what humans were saying—just thinking about it all sent shivers down his spine. Then he heard Tomas call out his name.
"Bluey, come on mate!" Tomas yelled, arriving a few minutes behind and knowing exactly where his troubled canine would be. He sometimes envied Bluey's hiding spot, especially when his mother nagged him about the chores.
Bluey whimpered with relief, and began to crawl to where he could see the legs of his master standing in-wait. A few seconds later, he was in Tomas' arms, tail waging furiously, and a low- pitched “whine” rumbling deep in his throat.
"Bluey, what's wrong mate?" His dog looked like he'd had a bad fright: his hair stood on-end and he shook like a scared rabbit.
"I don't know!" Bluey answered. Which came out: 'ri ront row', as canine vocal cords attempted human speech.
Tomas stared at his dog. Had he just heard right! Bluey tried to answer him? "What was that, mate?" He asked, feeling a bit silly.
"Ri ront row," Bluey repeated, realising at the same time that although he could understand humans, they/Tomas couldn't understand him.
Tomas shook his head in wonder. 'There's something very weird going on here,' he thought. Then he remembered what one of the boys said at the oval about tick poison and animals doing weird things, so he began to rub his hands through the course fur of his dog's back. That’s when he noticed something even weirder: a bald patch the size of a ten-cent piece, directly behind each ear. "What the heck are these?" He asked aloud.
Bluey didn't answer, enjoying the rub too much to notice anything. For some reason, the familiar touch of his master providing more comfort than he ever thought possible.
Tomas checked his dog thoroughly from head-to-toe. He found no more bald patches, or any ticks either. Whatever was wrong, or had happened to his dog, wasn't life-threatening, so further examination would have to wait. If his mother came out on her way to work and found him mucking around with Bluey when he should have been at school—now that would be life-threatening!
"I can't find anything wrong with you, mate," Tomas told his dog. "But I'll get dad to check you out when he gets home from work, okay. He might take you to the vet if you're not better by then." With that, Tomas gave Bluey a quick pat on the head, then to avoid detection, promptly climbed over the side-fence and ran all the way to school.
"Bluey, what..." Tomas didn't finish the sentence, Bluey bolted in the direction of the track home.
"What's wrong with yah dog?" Toby blurted.
"Don't know, never seen him go on like that before." Tomas’ freckled face was creased in a frown. “I better go home and check him out.” He then turned to his friend. “Can you take my bag to school and tell Mrs Booth I might be a bit late.” Jane Booth the fifth-grade teacher is very strict about punctuality.
Tomas turned to find his captain, now standing at the front of the group. " I'm going home to check Bluey out, Pete," Tomas told him.
"I think you better," Pete Brooks agreed, he'd never seen a dog go on like that either.
Bluey didn’t stop running until he reached the safety of his yard, then dived straight under the house and crawled to the hiding-spot between two brick footings. This is where he came when in trouble from Tomas' father for digging holes or bringing home some tasty morsel home he'd found. This time though, the trouble was much worse, and for the first time in his life Bluey was really scared—waking up in a cave/ the strange map-thing appearing in his mind/understanding what humans were saying—just thinking about it all sent shivers down his spine. Then he heard Tomas call out his name.
"Bluey, come on mate!" Tomas yelled, arriving a few minutes behind and knowing exactly where his troubled canine would be. He sometimes envied Bluey's hiding spot, especially when his mother nagged him about the chores.
"Bluey, what's wrong mate?" His dog looked like he'd had a bad fright: his hair stood on-end and he shook like a scared rabbit.
"I don't know!" Bluey answered. Which came out: 'ri ront row', as canine vocal cords attempted human speech.
Tomas stared at his dog. Had he just heard right! Bluey tried to answer him? "What was that, mate?" He asked, feeling a bit silly.
"Ri ront row," Bluey repeated, realising at the same time that although he could understand humans, they/Tomas couldn't understand him.
Tomas shook his head in wonder. 'There's something very weird going on here,' he thought. Then he remembered what one of the boys said at the oval about tick poison and animals doing weird things, so he began to rub his hands through the course fur of his dog's back. That’s when he noticed something even weirder: a bald patch the size of a ten-cent piece, directly behind each ear. "What the heck are these?" He asked aloud.
Bluey didn't answer, enjoying the rub too much to notice anything. For some reason, the familiar touch of his master providing more comfort than he ever thought possible.
Tomas checked his dog thoroughly from head-to-toe. He found no more bald patches, or any ticks either. Whatever was wrong, or had happened to his dog, wasn't life-threatening, so further examination would have to wait. If his mother came out on her way to work and found him mucking around with Bluey when he should have been at school—now that would be life-threatening!
"I can't find anything wrong with you, mate," Tomas told his dog. "But I'll get dad to check you out when he gets home from work, okay. He might take you to the vet if you're not better by then." With that, Tomas gave Bluey a quick pat on the head, then to avoid detection, promptly climbed over the side-fence and ran all the way to school.
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