Half an hour and a keyboard...
A tree flies by the window. No, not a tree. A telephone pole.
Another soon follows it, and another. A long succession of what used to be beautiful, graceful trees reaching up to the heavens. Now they sit silent and rigid, condemned to stand stark and barren against the desert skyline, holding slender metal threads with enough electricity to kill a human in a nanosecond.
I rest my head against the window with a sigh. So bored. There has to be something more entertaining than watching cars go by every five miles or so. The odd jackrabbit bounding across the scrub on a suicide run toward the asphalt gives momentary excitement, but it always vanishes long before it can be appreciated.
I want to be home. I want to be in my own yard, chasing across the grass, looking for butterflies, lying on the thick green sod looking up at clouds in the sky, or just taking a long snooze on one of the padded chairs on the back patio, dreaming the afternoon away.
But, no. "Let's go for a ride, it will be fun!"
Fun. Yeah, if this is fun, I do not want to know what boredom is supposed to be like.
Is there a point to this drive? Are we going somewhere? Is there ice cream involved? If there's ice cream, I can handle any amount of boredom. Assuming I don't die of starvation in the process. I can hear my stomach pleading for me to relieve the emptiness, but there's nothing to eat in here. Nothing that would interest me, anyway.
My mouth waters as I think of the contents of the refrigerator, back in the nice, cool house. I turn my head to look at the driver, wondering if complaining will do me any good, or if I'm stuck in this endless nightmare of telephone poles and dim-witted critters.
Perhaps he is more perceptive than I thought. He returns my look with a grin of apology. "Sorry, I didn't remember this road as being so boring. Or so long. We'll be home in twenty minutes."
Might as well be twenty years, from where I'm sitting. But at least there is a defined end to my torment. With another sigh, I look back out to the road and wonder if it's worth the effort to find a comfortable position for a nap, or if we'll be home before I can actually get to sleep.
We pass a few road signs, but they have been thoroughly battered by time, wind, and the occasional miscreant with more bullets than common sense. Doesn't matter... that's why we have the nice lady with the soothing voice telling the driver where to go. He's been driving these roads for thirty years, you'd think he would know the way by now.
Sometimes I don't know if he needs the directions, or just the voice. He seems lonely, sometimes. His last three dates were all disasters. Partly my fault, I'm sure. I didn't like any of the ladies, and I made my disdain readily apparent from the second they walked in the door. The feeling in each case was mutual, so I doubt that circumstances would have been any different if I had chosen to be friendly and welcoming.
In the far distance, just beyond a rise, I see a familiar sight. The big wooden sign with the peeling paint announcing the edge of the city limits. At last, a real, tangible sign that the long ordeal is finally over! Is that the drive through? Yes, sure enough, it is. A quick side trip, a few words exchanged, the clink of paper and coins... and the coveted vanilla ice cream is mine. Much to my regret, I wolf the stuff done much faster than I had intended, and the moment of sugary bliss is over entirely too soon.
"You're going to make yourself sick, you know," I hear. I disregard it. My stomach can handle anything, at any speed. Anything except nothing, which is all I've had in the last two hours.
I ignore the advice and turn my attention back to the road. A right turn, then a left, then another left, a long stretch of houses that all look the same, then the field full of cows... and home. My home, at last. I can already see it in my mind's eye. Oh please, let us just be home, that ice cream has convinced my bladder that it needs to kick up a fuss along with the rest of me!
Oh no... the grocery store. For a man, he sure spends a ridiculous amount of time shopping. He parks the car in the shade, cracks the windows, and goes inside while I wait with barely concealed impatience. This is nearly unbearable. The next time he says "let's go for a ride", I'm going to make him seriously regret those words.
Much to my relief, he is back in less than ten minutes. But now, my bladder is hurting. I need to go, and if he isn't quick, I'm going to go right where I'm sitting! He turns the car toward home. I know every bump on this road, every pothole, and they all contribute to the irritation in my midsection.
There it is! The two-story Cape Cod with the bright green front door and the rocking chairs on the front porch! The car turns into the driveway, and the engine shuts off. I am shoving through the door the second it is opened and bail out, running like I'm being chased by angry, possessed zombies with rocket-launchers.
Oh blessed relief. Home at last.
Now that my needs have been met, for the most part, I decide to investigate the grocery purchases. A big tub of vanilla ice cream. I'll take that as an apology. It's time for supper, and after supper, another scoop of ice cream and a long sleep on the back porch.
He looks at me with a sheepish grin. "Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad, was it?"
I decide to forgive him. After all, he is my best friend, and I know he cares about me. I give him my best tail wag, and a lick on his face, and he laughs, rubbing my ears fondly. I fall asleep at his feet as he sits with his glowing letter plate on his lap, watching some strange show about people who think it's fun to do obstacle courses that might kill them. Hmph...people.
When I wake up, he's getting ready for bed. I take my place at his feet, contentedly sighing as sleep overtakes me. The night is quick, and with the dawn, he is up and dressed. After a quick breakfast, which involves me stealing a half-dozen pieces of his bacon, he picks up his keys and jangles them. "Let's go for a ride!"
I grin and follow him out the door. What can I say? You never know what might happen on an afternoon ride.
