by Walter W.
It was your average Tuesday. Well, not exactly average. What ended up happening altered the course of human history as we know it, so one could hardly call it average. It was seemingly an ordinary day, and no one could have predicted or expected what was to take place, but started off in the usual way, nonetheless.
The dogs played dumb. Going-for-walks, sitting around at home, and greeting their masters, business as usual and no one was the wiser. The whole thing, it was later surmised, must have been planned, or in the makings of, for months. But the dogs, gave no sign of what was to come and led their lives in the most usual fashion.
Manny was a chief. He was a Shih-Tzu, barely 2 years old and typically adorable. He often wore a sly little smirk on his snout, but one had to look closely to see this, because his moppish hair obscured the fact. He was chosen for his intelligence. Being a Shih-Tzu, he was naturally intelligent but even among Shih-Tzus, Manny stood out.
Manny wept.
Once more, he was home all alone. His family had left for the day and he was by himself. The round edges of his little Shih-tzu's eyes welled up with tears. He crawled under the bed and cried.
Every day it was the same. The kids, off to school, sometimes remembered to give Manny a pat on the head goodbye. But more often than not, they just ran out the door. Bobby always remembered to give Manny fresh water, but usually if the kibble was there or not finished, he would not give any more. For hours on end, Manny drifted in and out of consciousness and tried hard to daydream. He would try to remember the fun he and Bobby had when they would go to the park together, before Bobby started high school.
No one knew that dogs could communicate with each other telepathically. No human, that is. Sure, a dog and its master could become very close and seem to read each other's minds at times, but dogs communicating with each other? For something of this scale to take place, animal telepathy and a general remorseful discontent with humans was most necessary.
Sheila was a Border Collie, seven years old, light brown and white and quite beautiful. She belonged to Leo Bettancourt, a financial trader who never could pay Sheila the full attention she deserved.
"I don't care. I need it before next week. I need it yesterday, you understand?" Sheila watched him with disappointed eyes, head on paws, as Leo yelped into the phone.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Sheila thought.
"Don't worry, this has to be done," Manny responded.
10:47 AM.
Rodney was a Black Labrador, a bit on in years at eleven and had something of a bad back. He belonged to Nina Bradley, a masseusse who lived on 51st and Broadway whose hours were flexible and fees were exorbitant. Rodney was in the middle of breakfast at 10:48 AM when he suddenly stopped, looked quickly over his left shoulder and went back to his meal.
I told those two to wait. If all goes well, I'll never have to eat Alpo again, Rodney thought to himself.
The walk-out was going to happen.
The dogs had a hierarchy. They needed organization for this to work and a system of classes and governing was necessary. There were 1 or 2 masterminds, a bunch of chiefs, and all the other dogs were followers. It was believed that the original idea came from the masterminds. Where they got it, no one knows.
No more tears, Manny thought to himself. The time is now. Manny got himself together and readied groups of dogs. Manny climbed into the dumbwaiter of the second story house and the weight of his little body sent it plunging. He jumped out and began to run. His impish face took a devilish wry countenance. No one noticed him. Because it was a business day, and after all he was just a little dog.
Sheila let out a barely audible whine and paced the narrow hallway of Leo's apartment a couple of times. "What is it girl, what's wrong?", said Leo.
I'm about to leave you, you damn fool, and I don't know if I can do it, Sheila thought. Leo stroked Sheila's neck, condescendingly.
Dogs began to leave. At first, in the first few minutes, the humans could not figure out what was happening. It was organized confusion. Dogs from all walks of life, houses and homes, apartments alike bolted from their owners. A door was open, a window ajar and BANG, the dog was gone.
Packs and packs of dogs gathered together between shrubbery in Central Park. Hundreds upon hundreds of dogs. By 11:15 AM, the humans got scared. Very scared.
"Sorry I'm late", said Manny.
"It's okay. We're early".
Manny and the other chiefs, mostly toy dogs, gathered together in a circle.
"Is it done? Did we really do it?"
"Yes. Every dog in New York City is here and accounted for. Every puppy, pound throwaway and lab specimen is present and saved. We're all here."
The dogs marveled at their own achievement. They sat for a few minutes, taking it all in.
"Then victory is ours. After all these years, victory is ours", said Rodney, belly still full of unwanted food.
"Well, then, let us bid this Earth farewell, shall we?", said an oversized Yorkie with remarkably regal features.
"Yes", said the dogs, en masse.
The crafts began to land.
And slowly, the dogs boarded, one by one
It was your average Tuesday. Well, not exactly average. What ended up happening altered the course of human history as we know it, so one could hardly call it average. It was seemingly an ordinary day, and no one could have predicted or expected what was to take place, but started off in the usual way, nonetheless.
The dogs played dumb. Going-for-walks, sitting around at home, and greeting their masters, business as usual and no one was the wiser. The whole thing, it was later surmised, must have been planned, or in the makings of, for months. But the dogs, gave no sign of what was to come and led their lives in the most usual fashion.
Manny was a chief. He was a Shih-Tzu, barely 2 years old and typically adorable. He often wore a sly little smirk on his snout, but one had to look closely to see this, because his moppish hair obscured the fact. He was chosen for his intelligence. Being a Shih-Tzu, he was naturally intelligent but even among Shih-Tzus, Manny stood out.
Manny wept.
Once more, he was home all alone. His family had left for the day and he was by himself. The round edges of his little Shih-tzu's eyes welled up with tears. He crawled under the bed and cried.
Every day it was the same. The kids, off to school, sometimes remembered to give Manny a pat on the head goodbye. But more often than not, they just ran out the door. Bobby always remembered to give Manny fresh water, but usually if the kibble was there or not finished, he would not give any more. For hours on end, Manny drifted in and out of consciousness and tried hard to daydream. He would try to remember the fun he and Bobby had when they would go to the park together, before Bobby started high school.
No one knew that dogs could communicate with each other telepathically. No human, that is. Sure, a dog and its master could become very close and seem to read each other's minds at times, but dogs communicating with each other? For something of this scale to take place, animal telepathy and a general remorseful discontent with humans was most necessary.
Sheila was a Border Collie, seven years old, light brown and white and quite beautiful. She belonged to Leo Bettancourt, a financial trader who never could pay Sheila the full attention she deserved.
"I don't care. I need it before next week. I need it yesterday, you understand?" Sheila watched him with disappointed eyes, head on paws, as Leo yelped into the phone.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Sheila thought.
"Don't worry, this has to be done," Manny responded.
10:47 AM.
Rodney was a Black Labrador, a bit on in years at eleven and had something of a bad back. He belonged to Nina Bradley, a masseusse who lived on 51st and Broadway whose hours were flexible and fees were exorbitant. Rodney was in the middle of breakfast at 10:48 AM when he suddenly stopped, looked quickly over his left shoulder and went back to his meal.
I told those two to wait. If all goes well, I'll never have to eat Alpo again, Rodney thought to himself.
The walk-out was going to happen.
The dogs had a hierarchy. They needed organization for this to work and a system of classes and governing was necessary. There were 1 or 2 masterminds, a bunch of chiefs, and all the other dogs were followers. It was believed that the original idea came from the masterminds. Where they got it, no one knows.
No more tears, Manny thought to himself. The time is now. Manny got himself together and readied groups of dogs. Manny climbed into the dumbwaiter of the second story house and the weight of his little body sent it plunging. He jumped out and began to run. His impish face took a devilish wry countenance. No one noticed him. Because it was a business day, and after all he was just a little dog.
Sheila let out a barely audible whine and paced the narrow hallway of Leo's apartment a couple of times. "What is it girl, what's wrong?", said Leo.
I'm about to leave you, you damn fool, and I don't know if I can do it, Sheila thought. Leo stroked Sheila's neck, condescendingly.
Dogs began to leave. At first, in the first few minutes, the humans could not figure out what was happening. It was organized confusion. Dogs from all walks of life, houses and homes, apartments alike bolted from their owners. A door was open, a window ajar and BANG, the dog was gone.
Packs and packs of dogs gathered together between shrubbery in Central Park. Hundreds upon hundreds of dogs. By 11:15 AM, the humans got scared. Very scared.
"Sorry I'm late", said Manny.
"It's okay. We're early".
Manny and the other chiefs, mostly toy dogs, gathered together in a circle.
"Is it done? Did we really do it?"
"Yes. Every dog in New York City is here and accounted for. Every puppy, pound throwaway and lab specimen is present and saved. We're all here."
The dogs marveled at their own achievement. They sat for a few minutes, taking it all in.
"Then victory is ours. After all these years, victory is ours", said Rodney, belly still full of unwanted food.
"Well, then, let us bid this Earth farewell, shall we?", said an oversized Yorkie with remarkably regal features.
"Yes", said the dogs, en masse.
The crafts began to land.
And slowly, the dogs boarded, one by one
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