My name is Andrew Joyce and I used to have a partner in crime until he set off for loftier environs. His name was Danny and he was a pretty good writer … for a dog. And he had many fans. Below is a picture of him with the Miami chapter of his fan club.
Anyway, I thought I might share with you one of Danny’s favorite stories. I still remember the day he writes about like it was yesterday … but it was eight years ago. Danny remembered it too. That’s why he told the tale that you are about to read.
Danny Goes to the Beach
What a time I had yesterday. I went to the beach!
I like to wake Andrew up early and take him for his walk before it gets too hot out. And 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 turkey slices. I was about to bite into a big, fat juicy slice 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 know that not having thumbs might be problematic. How would I grip the steering wheel? But I figure 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. So what’s the big deal? But I allow Andrew to take me to the beach because I have my own agenda. I love to bark at other dogs. The beach we go to is secluded, and dogs are not allowed (another email I must send to the governor). However, dogs take their humans there in the early morning and as long as everyone is gone shortly after the sun comes up, 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. What does he think … it’s not going to come up unless he’s watching?
As I 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! I like the sound of that.
I digress. Back to my story.
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. So 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. So he was engaged. That’s when I bit into the first bone. CRUNCH! At the sound, Andrew turned and saw my treasure. 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 mad at me. But by the time we got home, all was forgiven and he gave me a turkey slice. That’s why I keep him around.