Yeah, yeah, another bloody Cinderella!

Oryx

This was my second take on Cinderella for the last VOAT competition, but I could only enter one. Did I make the right decision???

Ayup… Something’s happening. From the noisy feet I can see in front of my bed, the sisters are back. Must’ve been a good day out, judging by the amount of bags. And they smell of chips. I love chips. Especially when they bring them home and one or two get dropped my way. But got to stay here in the corner for now. Them high heels look lethal, and the sisters have caught me with 'em before. A stiletto through the tail ain't nice, I tell ya.

They make a heck of a lot of noise, when you’ve ears like mine. I can hear a whistle two fields away, so their cackling grates. I’ll pretend to be asleep for a bit, then maybe when they’re gone I’ll sneak over and have a shufty at the bags, smell where they’ve been. A dogs nose can get so much from a smell, you can’t imagine. Better than your eyes it is, lets me see exactly what you did, for how long, who you spoke to, what you stood in. No smelly secrets with a dog like me. Mmm, doughnuts. That’s one thing the sisters do well, food smells.

It’s so easy to doze here by the range. I keep nodding off. Well at least the sisters have cleared out, now. Just cinders here, I didn’t even hear her come in. I like cinders. Of course, that’s not her name, just one I gave her. Not many human sounds make sense to these dog ears. Names, commands, its all just babble to me. Mostly I get by on guesswork, but I got a few words that matter. GOOD BOY. BALL. DINNER. WALK. Those things that make a dogs life blissful. I call this human cinders because she often sits down here with me in this warm spot, where the floor is dusty with smuts of coal and ash. She doesn’t seem to mind getting dirt on her jeans. The sisters, now that’d be another matter. If I as much as put my snout near their clothes they scream like coop full of scared hens. ‘Down, Shep! Bad, Shep!’ Those words I know well, and they’re not good, usually earn me a cuff on the head as well.

Cinders is a quiet one. I never hear her talk to them. But she talks to me. Softly, like it’s a secret. I don’t know her words but I don’t need to. Us dogs know more without words than you ever will with them. Her eyes give this one away. Lined in black from a pencil, darkened so much they look like mine. Sad. She’s like a lost puppy without a teat. She talks, and sometimes, inky tears drip down from her face onto my coat. I listen, give her the odd lick on the hand, and flop my tail. If only those gabby humans would realise that’s all you ever need to do. Put your head in their lap and listen and give the odd wag to show you understand. Humans are not that complicated, all they want is a warm body that doesn’t talk back. Suits me fine too.

But now even she is ignoring me. Today she seems to be keeping her sadness to herself. Reading that shiny magazine with all the pictures in. (Flashback to puppyhood… those magazines tasted so good!) Fingering a piece of pink paper, tapping it rhythmically on the table. Oh, now she’s torn it up. I’d have loved a sniff first. Ah, she’s coming over to sit with me after all, bringing her cup of tea. She’s careful, won’t spill it on me, and them boots, big as they are, never catch a paw by mistake. She’s a good human. Smells good too, like biscuits, or a warm bed. The sisters though, ugh. Smell like the toilet just after its been cleaned. Pongy, all chemicals, the both of them. Makes me sneeze when they waft in.

I don’t know what’s up with cinders today, she’s more out of sorts than normal. She’s not crying, more angry. Anger has a smell too, it’s spicy. It’s funny though, because she keeps saying my favourite word, BALL. Makes me prick my ears up. It looks promising. If she says WALK too I’ll be up and dancing. It’s silly, but I just can’t help myself, I get so excited. She seems to be catching my drift, notices the tilt of my head. I’m waiting. Will she say it? Yessss. We’re off. Excuse me while I turn a few circles and see if I can get the door open with my nose. I know, my lead, c’mon… I don’t even feel it as my tail thuds off everything within reach. I just want to get going. I’m getting a walk outdoors: smells, sheep, mud, cats. Nothing in life can contain such joy as a giddy, sniffing stroll down the old railway line. There’s always a bit of a crazy puppy left in even the quietest old dog, you just got to know how to find it.

On the pathway, its quiet, so she unhooks my lead. She shouldn’t really, but I love it. I’ll come back when she calls, I’m not daft like a Labrador you know. Off through the brambles, there’s a squirrel here somewhere, I sniffed it out lately. If I ever catch the little tease I’ll…I’ll… Well, I don’t know actually, I’ve never really thought that far. But anyway, I’m gonna keep looking. I get distracted and she has to whistle twice to remind me to catch up.

We’re at the playing field, and a little bit of doggy inspiration just struck me. I want to give some kindness back to cinders, and I know just how to do it. BALL, she said? Your wish is my command, princess. Before she can think to catch me, I’m off to where the skinny humans in the short pants are kicking about in the grass. I’ve seen them before, we watch them sometimes. There it is: BALL. I skid through the kicking feet, and grab it. It’s a bit big, but I hook a tooth through it and its squashier now, I wont drop it. A flurry of shouts from the humans, but I’m gone, chasing back to the little figure of cinders, who is yelling at me from afar. She isn’t as pleased as I’d hoped, but I’m dead chuffed with myself anyway. I settle down in a panting heap and watch her as she goes to talk to the big tall human who seems to want the BALL back. More gabble that is lost on my dog ears, these humans talk for ages. I roll in the grass while I wait. Scratch an ear. I expect a reprimand when she comes back, but there isn’t one. In fact, for the first time in ages, cinders is smiling. Beaming ear to ear. That other human must talk good stuff, making my person smile like that.

She latches my lead, and we head for the path. ‘Good Boy, Shep.’ she says, grinning. ‘You’re a very good boy’

pickarooney

Oryx wrote: »

This was my second take on Cinderella for the last VOAT competition, but I could only enter one. Did I make the right decision???

That depends. Which was your other story?

angelll

I prefer this one.

Oryx

pickarooney wrote: »

That depends. Which was your other story?

Ah, I said on the other thread. Numero 6, the depressing one.

Wantobe

Number six was one of my favourites but if I were allowed to give you two votes, and you'd entered this one too- I'd have voted for both.

Very, very good- love that it's written from POV of the dog, sweet without being too shmaltzy and very well written.