Mr. Miggs was a good dog. He didn’t bite, and he seldom barked. He was always nice to the baby, sniffing and wagging to show his love. He learned to relieve himself outside when he was only a few weeks old. If Mr. Miggs was told to sit, he did. If a walk was suggested, he quickly agreed, even if he was tired. The leash? He never complained. Mr. Miggs always showed support for the ideas of the people. He ate whatever they put down in his bowl.
In this way, many years of happy companionship passed, the baby became a teenager. He didn’t even complain when the people cut off his balls. He just looked hopeful and offered a teary-eyed wag or two. If the people went out, Mr. Miggs watched the door until they returned, maybe with a toy for him, or a bone from a restaurant!
Now that was going to change. Mr. Miggs had picked up a strange scent on the wind. Not a female. Those didn’t entice him anymore. Not food. Something… wild! There was something wild in the air! All day the scent had grown stronger. Enticing him. And even at age fifteen, Mr. Miggs wanted to run to this scent. To live wild! To run!
Mr. Miggs waited on his favorite throw-rug, over near the door. He looked relaxed. You could not tell that every muscle in his canine body was poised and ready to leap. Coming in or going out, sooner of later one of the people would open that door. And at long last, Mr. Miggs was going to make a break for it.
JAMES LEE JOBE