Moose

You thought this was a story about a dog named Moose didn’t you? Actually, my dog’s name is Pebbles. Gotcha!

Pebbles is my 8 year-old chocolate lab who loves to take adventures with me. She was originally training to be a hunter and to fetch fallen ducks. But guess what? My bred-for-hunting lab is afraid of the water. Her failed hunting career doesn’t discourage me tho; she’s still the best companion I could ask for.

Behind my house is a giant field with a set of trains tracks running through it. Pebbles and I love to take our walks here, where she chases skunks through the brush and likes to chew on little rocks. Can you guess how she got her name? She’s been doing this since she was just a pup and there’s no way of getting her to stop. Maybe there’ll be such a thing as doggie dentures here soon in the future, as I can imagine her needing something of the sort with her terrible habits.

Where the field ends, a giant forest begins. The tracks fork and each prong follows its destination through different terrain. One, through the field we enjoy our walks. The other, through the dense forest behind it. One day, feeling extra adventurous, I decided to take us along the train route that led through the thicket of trees.

This was no different from our every days walk, in exception for the change of scenery. Pebbles continued to chase imaginary raccoons and roll through mud and dead leaves. Up ahead, however, was a train car left behind. I’d never seen anything on the tracks before, and thought about turning around. But there was no one in sight and it was just the one abandoned car. This was of no interest to Pebbles. As I approached it, I noticed the ladder leading to the top of the car. Like every other fourteen-year-old would, I indulged my impulse to climb the ladder, leaving my pup to explore on the ground. Once at the top, I took this romantic opportunity to lay on my back against the warm metal and watch the clouds pass by, thinking about what fourteen-year-old girls think about. Occasionally I could hear Pebbles digging a hole, then abandoning it to crash through the trees, only to dig up another hole somewhere else.

I became lost in my own thoughts and was startled awake by the sudden silence. I sat up quickly and looked down from the top of the train car. Pebbles was still there but she stood at attention looking off into the trees. The hair on her neck spiked and I could hear a growl building in her throat. I waited for her to pounce on a rabbit that might be hiding in the bush, but my dog stood still. I took this as a sign to come down and head back home.

I walked some ways ahead expecting her to follow me like she always does, but when I looked behind my shoulder she stood in the exact same spot. I could see her curiosity, fear, and the need to protect intwined with her body language. She made no noise now, making an effort to better identify what was hidden in the woods. I made my way to her now, thinking nothing of the shadow she was making out to be a beast.

“C’mon Pebbles,” I called. The closer to her a got, the more anxious I became, as if our feelings were Bluetoothed together. I grabbed her by her red collar and tugged in the direction of home, but her feet were anchored to the tracks and another growl bubbled in her throat. “What on earth are you so freaked out about.” At this point, I knew my pup wasn’t just staring into nothing. I trusted her enough to know that by now. To confirm her suspicion, a moose calf came trotting through the trees, no more than ten feet in front of us. Pebbles skidded in place at the sight of it and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. Where there was a calf a cow couldn’t be far behind.

“Pebbles,” I whispered, tugging on her collar. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

Then, a bark. A bark that sent a chill through my entire spine. She calf whinnied and threw its head in our direction. I tugged at Pebbles harder, more worried about our safety than her comfort, but it was all too late. A loud grunt sounded from behind me and I struggled with the urge to whip my head around. Minimal movement, I reminded myself. Here we were. In between a mother and her calf, both clearly disgruntled. All we could do was run and hope they’d leave us alone. The cow began pawing at the ground and I noticed Pebbles’ tail hide between her legs and her ears begin to droop. Another grunt from the cow and a whinnie from the calf. I felt like a cowboy in an old film; my fingers twitching ready to pull my weapon, unfortunately my only weapon being my own two legs.

The next thing I knew I was bolting down the tracks in the direction of home. I knew Pebbles would follow me, but my heart faltered when I looked around and didn’t see her. Instead, the cow was galloping at me, stamping her hooves hard against the tracks and grunting louder than ever. She only followed me so far, I assume in an attempt to intimidate me, before she halted and turned back for her calf. I continued to run, checking either side of me for my trusty pup, when Pebbles came loping from the trees to rejoin me on the tracks, half startling me to death as she did so.

“Good girl!” I cried out to her. We ran the whole way home and collapsed on the front porch. Both of us panted like- well like dogs. I let out a nervous laugh over the events that had just passed and held my dog close. Her dewy breath fogged my face as she licked my cheek. This was certainly an adventure to top all out adventures. Nobody would believe this, and that’s why it would just be our little secret, up until now.