THE INCREDIBLE FLYING DOG -Fiction

 The Incredible Flying Dog

 

Maybe it was my fault. How could I have known what would happen that day on the beach when I begged my mom to bring our toy poodle?

"Please, can we take Shasta with us?"

Mom pulled the lunch meat from the fridge and dropped it in the cooler. She had spent the morning getting our things ready for the outing. I guess I could have helped, but I preferred staying wrapped in my blanket on the couch. Why did we have to get up so early on a Saturday?

"I don't know." Mom reached back into the fridge.

"Please, Shasta loves the beach."

"She's just a mess at the beach. She barks at other dogs. She poops. I just want to go to the beach and relax and not worry about some dog."

"She ain't some dog! She's family, and she deserves to go. And I will take care of her, so you don't have to."

"Sure you will."

"You don't believe me?"

Mom dropped the lettuce in the cooler and turned to me. "You always promise to help with the dog, and then it ends up being me that does it."

"No, I promise. You won't even know she is there."

"Err, I don't want this." Mom wiped her hands on her apron and placed them on her hip. This usually showed she had reluctantly given in.

We drove for five years until we reached the beach. The beach better be worth such a long drive. At least I had Shasta to keep me company as we cozied in my blanket. I ran my hands through her soft fur, ignoring her nasty dog breath.

Shasta bound out of the car when we got to the beach and ran in circles in the sand. I was right. She loved it there. Her tongue flapped on her face as she hunted the seagulls. She found an abandoned treat and ate it before I could stop her. 

Shasta barked at the waves, running in and out of them. She had found her heaven.

"Aren't you glad I brought her?" I said as Mom lugged our beach gear.

Mom didn't answer my question. A chair slipped out of her hands as she tried to balance the beach bag and cooler. "You could help carry more."

I had a pile of towels; didn't that make Mom happy?

"Well, I have to be able to help Shasta at any moment," I said, avoiding carrying more than I had to.

"Tsk."

After finding the perfect spot, we laid out the beach blanket.

"I am starving. Let's eat lunch first," Mom said.

I stood with my toes in the water. The coldness turned them into ice cubes. "Lunch sounds good to me." I had yet to commit to freezing my whole body.

I joined Mom on the beach blanket as she crafted our lunches. The warm rays messaged my body as I basked in the sun.

Shasta explored the water's edge and jumped on the blanket to join us. She collected sand on her way over, clumps of mud sticking to her fur.

She rolled on the blanket, getting muddy-sand everywhere! Mom lost it when Shasta plopped her body on the cutting board where Mom had fresh tomatoes.

"Get this dog off the blanket!" Mom yelled. 

"Mom, she doesn't know better." 

"But you do."

I grabbed Shasta and put her in the sand. Shasta returned to the blanket, making it a game.

"OFF, NOW!"

"Geez, you don't have to get so mad."

I rescued Shasta from Mom's wrath and ran with her across the beach while Mom shook off the blanket and finished preparing lunch. I didn't eat on the blanket because I didn't know how to keep Shasta off it.

With a satisfied belly, I plunged into the water. My breath left me as the coldness tightened my chest. 

"How is it?" Mom asked as she paddled next to me on the kayak.

"Freezing. Get in with me."

"No, I don't do the cold. I will just kayak while you swim. You have fun."

Bark. Bark. Bark.

Shasta had little dog syndrome, chasing after two Blue Healers.

"Go get that dog!"

I swam to the edge and ran as quickly as I could. Shasta crouched with her hair on edge. She snarled and bared her teeth.

"Shasta! Shasta! Stop it! Come here!" I yelled, but she didn't listen. Thankfully the other dogs only looked at her and didn't attack. They could have snapped her in one bite.

I bent down and grabbed her.

"Dumb, dog," I scolded, carrying her back to our things.

After a few minutes, I put her down and returned to the water.

"What are you doing? You can't leave her alone. She will just chase the next dog that comes by."

"What am I supposed to do?" I whined. "I want to swim."

"I told you she would be a mess."

Ignoring Mom, I kept playing in the water.

"What are you doing? I am serious. She can't be left alone."

I got out of the water and sat with Shasta on the beach. My mood soured. How stupid. I wanted to swim.

I watched other kids enjoying the water as I sat on the beach babysitting a dumb dog.

"What if I tie her leash to the canopy?" I asked when brilliance hit me.

"I guess that will work."

"Yay!"

I tied Shasta up and dove into the water.

Eventually, I joined Mom in the kayak, and we had a great time until the wind picked up. I don't know where it had come from because the weather had been pleasant up to that point. But it arrived like an angry school principal, with full fury.

Mom struggled to keep us from being dragged out to sea. We both paddled with all our strength and made little progress.

Meanwhile, a gust or, let's say, a tornado came and picked our canopy in the air. Poor Shasta dangled. At least she had a harness on. If the leash had connected to her collar, it would have strangled her.

"Shasta!" I screamed. I paddled harder so we could rescue my dog.

The wind hadn't finished. It sent the canopy across the beach like a tumbleweed. 

Poor Shasta. She barked and barked in a tone I had never heard as she moved across the beach. And with her leash tied to the top of the canopy, she flew in the air like a kite.

Shasta was a kite! The wind kept the leash tight as she soared to the side.

Despite the crazy storm, everyone stopped to watch a dog fly.

I jumped off the kayak and swam the last of the distance. I ran to the canopy and flipped it upright, catching my dog on her way back down.

"My poor baby," I said, holding her shaking body next to mine. Thankfully, later the vet said she was fine, with no broken bones. 

"Just shook up."

Someone posted Shasta on Tic Tok that night, and she went viral as the "flying dog."

"So, the next time we go to the beach, you will leave her home, right?" Mom said as we watched Shasta's video for the millionth time.

"What do you think about a dog playpen?" I asked.

"Then, you would have a dog in a flying saucer when the wind comes."

I laughed. I guess Mom was right. Shasta was a mess at the beach..

I realized that day how much work dogs take. But I also learned that dogs could fly.

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The Incredible Flying Dog

by Stephanie Daich