Frank’s Newfound Happiness

There once was a dog named Frank. Frank liked 2 things most in this world: his drumstick chicken bone that he found last Spring, and rolling around on a sandy beach. Frank only got to go to the beach in the summertime. He would know he would get to see the beach when the littlest child, Sarah, would start packing her little wicker basket with toys.

One year, Frank could sense something was different. Although his sense of smell was keen, the house smelled as it always had, of air-fresheners and lightly worn leather upholstery. Although his hearing was sharp, the house was neither quieter nor louder than a typical Sunday afternoon. However, Frank could not focus on gnawing his drumstick, because something else was gnawing at him.

A few moments later, Sarah, sensing his discomfort, came to the kitchen where Frank lay, and gently started scratching between his ears. Frank looked up, pleased at the impromptu attention in his hard to reach areas. After a while, Sarah stopped scratching, and sat on the ground, peering into the living room. Frank curled up on Sarah’s lap, sensing that that’s where he was meant to be in that moment. Frank felt faint droplets tap on his head, and a gentle weight press on his back. That year, Frank did not roll around on the sandy beach, nor any year after.

Frank still liked 2 things most in the world: his favorite drumstick, and Saturday mornings when the bright red car would bring Sarah to the door with her wicker basket full of toys.

This is a story I drafted in 30 minutes for fun. Thank you for reading!