Carolyn’s Online Magazine (#COMe)
A DOG NAMED BOB AND A BLUEJAY
The WordPress prompt for June 10, 2015, provided a list of five words—mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, ink—and instructed writers to take 20 minutes to write a post including these words, plus a character—a dog named Bob. OK, I’m game for something different. Below is my writing.
Big Dog Bob shifted his long, gray, furry, body as he looked up at the bluejay that flew past his sleeping spot. The bluejay’s wings fluttered noisily as it flew a few feet from Big Dog Bob and landed on the table next to the glider I’d been sitting on earlier while forking a strawberry covered waffle into my mouth, assuaging my morning hunger. The bluejay must have been hungry too, and a might bit adventurous in his culinary appetites, because it stuck its beak into the pool of pure maple syrup I’d left on my plate.
The bluejay must have found the syrup distasteful, because it again fluttered its wings, quickly rose, and flew to the more lucrative bird feeder. In the process he chased a pair of cardinals away from their meal.
I watched all this as I returned to the glider with the newspaper I’d retrieved from the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
Big Dog Bob decided to explore the yard as I sat on the glider where I sipped my morning coffee, read the newspaper, and enjoyed watching Big Dog Bob and his sister, Little Dog, chase a couple of squirrels off their turf.
Coffee done, I was ready to work on my day’s quota of writing. Because my computer was inside the house, and I wanted to work outside where I could enjoy the early summer morning weather, I’d brought an ink pen and a paper pad to the glider. I spent the next hour writing lines of poetry while watching the birds, my cats Big Dog Bob and Little Dog (named such because my husband doesn’t know the difference between a cat and a dog), and several squirrels.
The phone brought the hour to an end. After completing the call I returned to my computer to work on my novel, while Big Dog Bob and Little Dog curled up on the newspapers covering the floor beside my desk.
It’s too bad more summer mornings don’t begin as peacefully as this one was.
NOTE: Explanation—my husband Monte doesn’t know the difference between a cat and a dog, and calls all cats dogs—ergo, Big Dog and Little Dog. My daughter always calls Big Dog not by his name, King, but by the name she wants him to have—Bob.