Dog Days

I am a city girl, born and raised. Honking horns, smog, litter, gang bangers- that is my element. Compared to the city I grew up in, the town I’ve called home for the past fourteen years is nature at its finest. There are no sidewalks in this hood. The strangest change for me though, was that my mailbox is now down the street, around a corner, teetering over a creek, at the point where the creek runs into a small lake. Who puts a set of mailboxes next to a creek? That decision pre-dates me, so I can’t answer that. I have come close to losing my mail to the creek on several windy days, but I haven’t actually lost anything yet.

My senses come to life on these short daily mail retrieving jaunts. I pass a syrupy sweet lilac bush, a vibrant vine of clematis covered with a plate of morning dew, and an overgrown white rose bush that snags the skin on my thigh, regularly drawing blood. I listen to the musical sounds of the various birds whistling, chirping, calling, screaming… the hawks attacking the bluejays as the bluejays attack the sparrows- coitus interruptus.

I pass a lovely white lake house whose land is adjacent to the row of mailboxes by the creek. This house has among its residents, a very energetic inky black springer spaniel pup. I don’t know the dogs name, so let’s call him “Bob“. (See prompt below) “Bob” is always happy to see me, which adds another element of adventure to this daily task.

One morning as I drove past my mailbox, I decided to forego the walk on natures trail, and instead stopped to grab my mail. I opened my car door, jumped out, and “Bob” (the dog) jumped in. I believe “Bob” had just come out of the lake, as he was drenched and smelled strongly of dead carp. I commenced a futile attempt to extract “Bob” who was jumping from the front to back, side to side. I hadn’t allowed time for this adventure, and when “Bob” finally alighted from my car, I was late for work. Did I mention this was a Sunday, and that there is no mail service on Sunday’s? It was. 

I do kind of miss the city… just a little.


The Daily Post, June 10, 2015, Daily 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.<a href=””>A Dog Named Bob</a><a href=””>A Dog Named Bob</a>

3 thoughts on “Dog Days

  1. Good one!

    We annually lose our mailbox to snow plows, but we just prop it back up. It turns out that’s why no one cements their mail box into place. It’s so when the plows hit’em, they just fall over and usually don’t break. Country logic.

    Liked by 1 person

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