Monday, January 9, 2012

Daily Prompt: Bumbly

Daily Prompt Rules: Must be written in third person, past tense. Prompts are decided the day of the exercise. You write until you feel you're done. Minimum-- 200 words.

Picture Prompt: (January 5th, 2012)


A blanket of white snow covered everything in sight. The trees and their branches hung low with the weight of it. The bushes had been covered in the storm overnight, and the grass had long since been buried beneath the snow and sleet. What was it about the substance that made human love it so much anyway?

The dog—though one would do well to avoid calling him that—was not a fan of snow. The snow made his paws cold and wet and then she yelled at him when he jumped in bed like that. He often wondered why she took him out into the wintery slush if she was only going to yell about the condition he returned in. Humans made no sense to Bumbly. He simply could not relate.

This morning she woke up crying, his human. The black thing beside her bed make a shrieking noise before it was even daylight which seemed to have activated Bumbly’s bladder. He was no longer a puppy and thus it was always a balancing act. To eat first or to relieve himself? Much to her dismay, he often may the wrong choice which led to an emergency urination on the bathroom floor. She was a yeller and that sure sent her into a frenzy.

Now, she had taken Bumbly out into the cold, wet snow and had expected him not to whine. She shushed him when a whimper escaped.

Truth be told, Bumbly didn’t dislike her. He cared very much for her in fact. It just so happened that with age, so came crankiness (for them both it seemed). The pair had been together for years. So many, in fact, that Bumbly had seen her go through a variety of people (most of the male variety). The pair had gone from their youth to adolescence (now that was a difficult time for poor Bumbly who had become known as “the leg humper”), and through university. Now, in her mid-twenties, she and Bumbly had left her parents’ house and finally had a home they could call their very own.

Bumbly reminded himself of this daily. Her moods had become tiresome and even Bumbly’s cuddles didn’t do much. Sure, she held him and talked with him, but it just wasn’t the same. She was upset about something—always apologizing to him. She had taken to dragging him to the man in the white coat a lot lately. After poking and proding, they left with her always crying. Bumbly didn’t know how to make her feel better. He was at a loss for what he could do.

They passed Bumbly’s favorite bush and he looked at it fondly. He knew it was his bush even though it was covered in that blasted snow. What wasteful weather, to cover a guy’s favorite bush.

Something slowed him down—a pain he thought. Bumbly’s right front paw ached, so he laid down. It began as uncomfortable, but then it spread. She started crying again, but Bumbly couldn’t move to comfort her this time. Lying there in the snow, all Bumbly wanted to do was to lick her face and make her smile. She wasn’t smiling now. She looked as though she was losing her best friend in the entire world. And she was.

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