Did I happen to mention how much I enjoy a good sausage?  It is true that I fancy myself a connoisseur of sorts and so it is with much disappointment that I am denied the opportunity to indulge in my second favorite food, or so my Mistress believes.  My Mistress often drives me around town so I can enjoy the heated front leather seat, of course.  I allow her to stop to conduct her errands as usually this includes the requisition of items I require for my basic comfort.   It is always agreeable to stop by the meat market, but for some strange reason, she always tries to put her purchases where I can't get them.  I'm sure it is a game of sorts but why she insists is beyond my understanding.  So it was on one occasion that upon returning from the meat market her purchase was placed on the dashboard, presumably out of reach.

I instantly picked up on the juicy sweet aroma of lamb sausage.  I looked at my Mistress and released an insistent bark but she gave me that annoying smile she often gives me when she wants to be coy.  Once again the game was afoot.  She stopped the car at her next stop, ran her fingers through my fur and apologized that I would not be enjoying her sausage.  This was most definitely war!  I watched her leave, disappearing among the throng of bipedals walking outside the car; I feel so sorry for my Mistress sometimes.  I looked up toward the dashboard.  I could not see the delightful feast wrapped in brown paper but I could smell it; each whiff was like an angelic song that called out my name insistently.  I would not be denied!

I jumped to the driver's seat then very carefully placed my paws up on the steering wheel.  Of course I can jump much higher and farther than I allow my Mistress to see, after all if she thought for a moment that I could jump up onto my couch or bed without assistance I could be forced to do such things on my own rather than be carefully lifted and cradled to my destinations.  However, despite my exceptional jumping skills it was clear that the object of my desire was still beyond my jumping reach.  Necessity is the mother of invention however.  With a quick jump, I was able to get my hind legs up onto the bottom of the steering wheel with my front paws at on the top of the steering wheel.  I saw the bundle of bliss and my eyes widened; the smell was so much richer and deeper from up there and I was spurned on.  I quivered as I tried to maintain my balance.  I would have one shot and it could be painful, but well worth it.  I pushed up with my hind legs while simultaneously pulling with my front paws, I lifted up and forward while snapping with my jaws.  For a brief breathless second the thought of failure crossed my mind but then the edge of my front teeth nicked the carefully taped package and sunk just enough that when I inevitably fell the sweet tasty meal slid off the dashboard with me. I hit the driver seat and tumbled down onto the floor, where the foot pedals were.  Seconds later the package of meat thumped onto the floor next to me.  Victory was mine!  I tore into the package like my hungry ravenous wolf ancestors.

Time passed as it often does.  My Mistress took her time returning, much to her detriment.  When she returned to the car I was sitting patiently on my leather seat, casually watching the bipedals  as they went about their business, my expression indifferent.  My Mistress immediately knew something was up but at first was not sure what it was.  She opened her door and glanced at the dashboard then gasped at the floor boards to see what remained of the brown paper that had covered the succulent meal I had very recently enjoyed.

“Yukon!” she said my name as it were a curse.

Casually I glanced at her while feigning a look of surprise, “Is something wrong?” my eyes seemed to ask.  I had beat her at her own game.  Oh victory was sweet and so very delicious.

The End

Copyright © 2010 Daniel Betts