Give Me Back My Stick

Dopey and I are out for a walk in the woods. A new trail. It's beautiful today.

A giant mess of sticks blocks the water in the brook we're about to cross. Water oozes through the stick mess, creating a gooey mud on the other side instead of the brook.

I am a chocolate lab, right? A Labrador Retriever. Retrieve things. That's what I do.

"Hey Dopey," I say. "Look at all those sticks!"

Of course, all Dopey hears is barking.

"Watcha barking at, boy?" Dopey pats my head.

I'm barking at that mountain of sticks. Duh. I don't call him Dopey for nothing.

He and I would get along much better if he could actually listen to me. He's not so bad, though. Most of the time, anyway.

When we get to the bridge, Dopey unhooks my leash so that I can swim across while he takes the bridge.

"Don't run off," he says. "Bonnie would never talk to me again."

Dopey meanders across the bridge. He stops to look at his phone before continuing on, giving me a chance to swim a little more.

I love swimming. I swim all the way back to where the stick stack is,

I spot a nice one in the middle of the pile, so I grab it with my mouth and tug.

It doesn't come out, so I have to yank hard. The stack creaks a little when the stick finally comes out. Water trickles through the stick mess.

It's a good stick, a perfect fit for me, but I'm sure Dopey would say it's too big.

I swim to the shore near the bridge. Dopey races over and hooks my leash back up.

I set my stick down and shake the water off. Dopey tries not to get wet.

"Hey!" a voice booms. "Give me back my stick!"

It's a manly voice, deep and raspy. I turn around and see an animal on top of the stick mountain. It's brown and weird and has a flat tail. It's like a fat cat with a scrunched-up face.

There's no sign of a man anywhere.

"Who said that?!" stammers Dopey, wiping his face where I splashed him.

"I think that stupid thing can talk!" I holler. "BARK! BARK! BARK!"

A bunch more of these guys start climbing up the sticks from out of the goo. They weren’t there, but now they are.

"Hello?!" Dopey calls.

Some of the animals are on our side of the brook now.

"Where are all these beavers coming from?" mutters Dopey

"Give me back my stick!" The first animal screams.

How is this animal talking?! And Dopey understands him? What the hell?!

The rest of them amble menacingly over and across the sticks. Except the leader, who stands tall on top of the pile.

I guess they're beavers. I never saw one before. They're weird looking.

"How, what . ." Dopey stammers. "How are you talking?"

"My stick," the head beaver hisses. "I need it back."

"It's my stick, now!" I bark. I'm not sure if these guys understand me or not.

"Back off, poop breath!" hisses the leader again.

Guilty as charged. I know it’s gross to you humans, but goose poop is delicious. And who can blame me with what you feed me.

The beaver goons get closer. They walk like people, standing up, not crawling like wild animals should.

Dopey grabs my stick and holds it out in front of him like he's Luke Skywalker or something.

The goons seem more like they're out of a Kung-Fu movie than Star Wars though. At least Dopey watches good movies, right?

"Listen," Dopey yells. "We don't want any trouble here.!”

"Then give us back the stick," orders one of the goons.

He's right in front of me and Dopey now. Ginormous teeth. Crazy eyes, bulging like they're too big for the sockets.

Even standing on his two back legs, he's not as tall as me in my normal position. But for a little guy, I have to admit, he looks tough. And he doesn't seem scared by Dopey or his stick light-saber.

More of them scramble behind him, getting ever closer to us.

"Give us back our stick," says the animal thug again. His voice is low and slow.

He drops down to all fours and looks like he's about to pounce.

My fur sticks up. My muscles tense. I'm ready. If this thing pounces, I'm pouncing back.

Am I growling?

I'm gonna grab Crazy-Eyes and shake the little bastard 'til there's nothing left to shake. If Dopey would let go of the leash.

But Dopey, he just tosses the stick into the brook!

Whaaat?!

Crazy-Eyes and like six other goons swarm onto it. They bring it to the leader, and present it to him like it’s a fine bottle of wine.

"I'm glad you chose the easy way, mates," the leader grins. Did you know beavers can grin?

He jams the stick back into the pile. Creaking and cracking noises.

”Dopey! We could have taken these guys!" I look at up at him."BARK! BARK! BARK! ”

All the beavers are gone.

“Let’s go, Tucker.”

Well, that's what happened. The rest is pretty boring. I can’t find another stick.

Anyway, that's why we were late getting back.

* * * *

Tucker finished his story and looked up at Bonnie.

"Uh, yeah, Tucker wanted to swim so it took a little longer than I thought," said George, having not heard his dog’s tale.

He dropped his keys into the drawer.

"So, you and George were battling an army of beaver ninjas?" Bonnie asked as she rubbed a towel over the dog's wet belly.

"Yup," he said.

George only heard a short bark.

"Well, Tucker," Bonnie chuckled, "at least you're a good story teller. “

George laughed, coming closer to his wife and dog.

"Ninja beavers?" he asked. "Okay."

When Bonnie walked into the next room with the dirty towel, George gave Tucker a wink.