Bowser

By Robert C. Waggoner

Bowser is a short story about a homeless dog. It combines laughter with tears as the reader follows him on his daily search for food and shelter. Bowser becomes street smart and dodges the dog catcher, but when a car hits him, his life changes forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert C. Waggoner
• Release date: Dec 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301751327

Robert C. Waggoner

I now reside in the USA in Eastern Oregon. Due to health reasons, I don't write much anymore. I'll continue with a few short stories and all will be free to my readers. I'm privileged to have had thousands of readers download my stories. I thank you all. Happy reading and sure hope you have and will enjoy my writing. Robert [Bob] Waggoner

Book preview

Bowser

by Robert C. Waggoner

Copyright 2006 Robert C. Waggoner

Smashwords Edition

Bowser

2006

Robert C. Waggoner

With my head under the fence peering through a bush, saliva running off my tongue, I watched the man, dig out of a can pure meat smelling food, and put it into a dog dish marked Fido. I waited for my opportunity when the man went back into the house. I dug my back feet into the loose soil I had freshly dug. Once a week I had to dig a new hole as the mean lady with the shovel filled in my hole under the fence.

She was on to him and it was only on Fridays’ that the man fed the dog. How does a dog know it is Friday? Because the man and woman are always both home the next day working in the yard. The screen door slammed shut and the back door closed as I made my move against the little yapper wolfing down the canned meat in the bowl. I streaked across the yard and banged Fido’s head away taking a big mouth full, swallowing it whole and digging for more when the door opened and the man came out with a broom in his hands. He took a swipe at me, but all I heard was the familiar sound of ‘crack’ as the broom handle broke as it hit the ground. I was long gone headed for the hole under the fence and safety.

Once through the hole, I made a circle and hiked it up on the fence to mark my territory giving it an extra squirt. Then trotting down the alley I was walking tall having scammed breakfast. The man last night at my dumpster home ruined my dinner of left over fish when he caught me digging through the garbage sacks before they were thrown in the dumpster. There is nothing worse than trying so sleep on an empty stomach; and the pickings lately had been slim to none. Maybe it was time to move to another neighborhood. I hated the thought of leaving my nice smelling dumpster, but even when I scored some good leftovers, the cats bothered me to no end.

In my younger