Bella the Good Puppy

I can hear my human’s car revving as she pulls out of the driveway. A daily ritual that occurs at exactly 7:15 a.m. on the dot. The morning air has become crisp and the smell of homemade spiced coffee comforts the kitchen. This is my favourite season: the one where the trees shed their coats, leaving the streets painted with brightly coloured leaves. Every morning before she leaves, my human takes me out for a short, brisk walk. My warm breath is visible as it spurs out of me like smoke. I pretend I’m a dragon while I hop along the grass looking for the perfect spot to relieve myself and simultaneously mark my territory.

As I lay here cozied up in my new puppy blanket, I contemplate napping for the rest of the day. However, duty calls, and I must take care of the house. I wander into the kitchen where my human left perfectly toasted crumbs randomly scattered across the floor. Using my sense of smell, I locate and vacuum these tiny treats into my mouth. There, now the floor is clean.

Next, I check all of the rooms to make sure no one is hiding where I can’t see them. Sometimes I play hide-and-seek with my humans, so I like to make sure they’re not waiting for me to find them. Today I’ll start downstairs and work my way to the top floor. The stairway to the basement is dark, but I don’t mind it. When my human comes down here, she usually turns on that bright light that comes out of the shiny rectangular-shaped thing that she’s always looking at or talking to. I think she calls it a smell-phone, but I don’t see what’s so great about it. To me, it just smells like those silicone toys that hurt my teeth.

In the basement, I check under the couch, on the couch, and around the table. She’s not hiding there. Next, I make my way up to the living room, then the bathroom, then the laundry room, then her bedroom. She’s nowhere to be found. Just to be extra sure, I hop onto her bed. She’s not under the covers, but, wow, her bed feels so comfortable and it smells just like her. I know I’m not supposed to, but since she’s not home, maybe I’ll lay here for a few minutes.

Before I know it, I’m awoken by the sounds of voices coming from the front yard. I immediately hop off of the bed, worried that my human has come home and will find me sleeping where I’m not allowed to be. As I leave the bedroom, I notice that the curve of my body has imprinted the perfect donut-shaped circle on her comforter. I’ve left behind evidence of my crime. Hopefully, my human won’t notice.

There’s a man outside. I can see him through the tall, skinny windows that sandwich the front door. He has a gift. I recognize the present because of the words Amazon Prime printed across it’s blue and white wrapping. This Amazon Prime person has sent my human many gifts since the beginning of March. She used to take me with her while she would shop for new clothes in the outdoor outlets by our home, but as of late, she mostly gets things given to her by Amazon Prime. She’s very lucky.

He leaves the gift by the door and completely ignores me when I try to tell him to just bring it inside. The key is neatly tucked under the mat, but he’s not listening to me. I tried using my loudest and most clear voice, but he just stared at me with caution and then walked away. I’m only a little French Bulldog, but my human has told me that sometimes I do come on too strong. I just get so excited to meet new people. They all smell so wonderfully different. I feel like a real connection happens when you can be nose-to-nose, but, since I’m so small, I sometimes need to jump up to see their faces. It’s not easy, but I want to be accommodating. I jump up to their level, so they don’t have to bend to mine.

I sit there staring out of the window, watching as my friends walk past with their humans. I can tell it’s cold out today because they’re all wearing their sweaters. Maybe my human will put my red, checkered jumper on me and take me out to sniff my trees. I like monitoring who is sharing my trees and bushes with me. They always leave behind their scent. I don’t mind sharing, but I also like to remind them that the vegetation on this block belongs to me.

While lost in my thoughts, I hear the gentle hum of my human’s car approaching the block. My ears raise and my body stiffens because I want to be sure that what I’m hearing is right. Yes, it’s definitely her. About 30 seconds later, my human’s small yellow car pulls into the driveway. She sees me waiting for her by the door and smiles at me.

“Hi, Bella! What have you been up to, you good puppy?”