My friend Chris has been asking me for years to write something for his blog. I read it all the time, and it has great stuff for writers, but my writing is already perfect. My marketing is perfect. Let’s face it; everything about me is perfect. . . I’m a perfect dog. I mean just take a look at my picture. Have you ever seen a more handsome dog than me? I didn’t think so.

Rather than pontificate on how to write a short story, I thought I’d teach by example. Besides, I’m too indolent to write a whole article, even for Chris. I must save my energy for chasing cats. What fun! I just want you to know that all my stories are true. I don’t like to write fiction. I find my life is so interesting that I can keep my readers enraptured by simply writing about my everyday goings-on.

Okay . . . enough with the set up. Here is a genius short story of mine that I wrote a little while back. It’s entitled (drum roll please) . . .

Danny Goes to the Beach

Good morning! I am Danny the Dog, teller of tales, bon vivant, all-around good dog and lover of hotdogs; also a purveyor of words, wit and wisdom. Oh yeah, my human’s name is Andrew, but he’s unimportant.

I like to wake Andrew early in the morning and take him for his walk before it gets too hot. I like our walks because there’s a whole lotta good sniffing out there. But yesterday, it was Andrew that roused me from a sound sleep. I was dreaming of hotdogs. I was about to bite into a big, fat juicy hotdog when he shook me awake. I almost bit him.

Anyway, he told me we were going to the beach to watch the sun come up. When we walk, I lead the way, but when we go to the beach, Andrew drives the car because I don’t have a driver’s license. Can you believe it? Florida doesn’t give dogs driver licenses! I emailed the governor about this injustice, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. I realize not having thumbs could be problematic. How would I grip the steering wheel? But I’ll worry about that after I get my license.

Sunrises (and sunsets for that matter) don’t do much for me. They have no scent. You can’t smell them. So what’s the big deal? However, I allow Andrew to take me to the beach because I have my own agenda. I love to bark at other dogs. Don’t you?

The beach we go to is secluded, and dogs are not allowed (another email I must send to the governor). But dogs take their humans there in the early morning hours anyway, and as long as everyone is gone shortly after the sun comes up, then there’s no trouble.

So we get to the beach, and Andrew sets up his folding beach chair. He’s such a wuss! Can’t he just sit on the sand like everyone else? Me, he ties to a palm tree. Then he waits for the sun to come up.

As I’ve said, I have my own reasons for being there, so I start my nose a-twitching. I can smell another dog from a mile away. If I were a super hero, I’d be known as SUPER SNOOT. I would sniff out my nefarious nemeses and bring them to justice. I think I’d look cool with a cape. I look good in blue, so it would be blue with a big red “D” emblazoned right in the middle of it. Danny the Dog, mild-mannered dog by day, SUPER SNOOT by night! He fights for truth, justice and the American Way! I like the sound of that.

I digress, back to my story.

So Andrew’s getting excited because the sun is coming up (what a surprise!). And I’m sniffing for dogs when all of a sudden I detect something good, as in chicken-bone good. I put my super snoot to the ground and start my search. Of course, being SUPER SNOOT, I find the bones right away. They were only a few inches under the sand. But before I take one of those delightful morsels into my mouth, I give Andrew a surreptitious glance to make sure he isn’t going to ruin my fun. I needn’t have worried; his attention was on a red ball coming up out of the ocean, turning the clouds a bright pink and orange. His mind was engaged, so that was good.

I bit into the first bone . . . and . . . CRUNCH!

At the sound, Andrew turned and saw my find. I didn’t know the old guy could move that fast. He was out of his chair, and before I could do anything about it, he had my whole stash. At least I had half a bone in my mouth and he wasn’t going to get that!

The short of it is, I distracted Andrew from his precious sunrise. He took my bones, and I didn’t get to bark at a single dog. What a bust! On the ride home, I didn’t go over and lick his face as I usually do. I was mad at him, and he was somewhat angry with me. But when we got home, all was forgiven, and he gave me a hotdog. That’s why I keep him around.

Look for my next adventure in SUPER SNOOT Comics #1. Available soon at your local bookstore. (see first issue working cover below – you can even click it and see where it takes you – you might be astounded wolwolwoof).

Danny the Dog

Fort Lauderdale, Florida

2014