Roscoe

… felt free for the first time in three years. He happily trotted down the side of the road, his claws clicking on the gravel in a light rhythm. His tongue flopped loosely down the side of his face, and thick globs of drool rolled of its pink tip, landing on his brown and white speckled fur coat. He felt like he could keep trotting along forever, and his stubby little legs would never tire. His two long eyes lightly grazed his cheeks as they swayed back and forth in the light breeze. He heard a roar from behind, and the hair on his back sprung to attention. He froze on the instant, and slowly turned his gaze to great the unwelcome visitor. Its bright eyes shone in the distance and it roared faster and faster towards Roscoe’s awaiting self. His teeth were bared and drool was pouring from the corners of his mouth. A low guttural growl erupted from his throat, and he began to bark ferociously at the trespasser. It came closer and closer but Roscoe held his ground and barked louder, and it drove past him, and into the night. The hair on his back lowered, and Roscoe began to trot again, his proud chest puffed up and out, and his nose high in the air.

Wait… whoa… what’s that smell!? Roscoe froze again, but kept his nose in the air. His nostrils flared out… and back in… then out again… then it hit him. Roscoe took off down the road, faster then he had ever run before, and he bounded over a curb, and landed on the pavement at a bad angle, he slid a little, cutting the bottom of his front paw. He didn’t care; he kept on running towards the smell. There it was. He slowed his pace, and stared up at the beauty of the large green dumpster that housed the vast amounts of treasure that someone like Roscoe lived to plunder. Now, he just needed to get inside. That is when he noticed how tall this treasure chest really was, and he backed up to get a good look. His back paws slipped, and he fell so he was sitting on the street, but his front paws were resting up on the curb. Running start. He needed a running start. He took two steps back, and bounded toward the dumpster. But suddenly an enormous shot rang out into the cold night air, throwing him off guard, and instead of soaring up and over into the garbage, he soared right to the ground and rolled right into a tall silver object he hadn't seen before. It tipped to one side and hit the ground with a dull thud. Roscoe lifted himself up and slowly crept over to it, his nostrils flaring. When he got no closer then two inches from the little shiny cylinder and it didn’t make a move he decided it was safe. Well, this is better then nothing, thought the basset hound and he picked it up in his mouth and trotted away.