Duck Hunter

Fresh morning light spills over the horizon. It was this moment of the day the dog loved most. [[It was peaceful.]] <background-img=[happyLittleTree]>

The hunter crouched in his blind about fifty yards away; [[watching.]]

Sniffing the air, the dog could tell the area was full of [[waterfowl.]]

In the distance, the hunter [[blew the call.]]

[[“QUACK QUACK”]]

The dog knew this was his signal. He knew he should rustle the grass and chase the ducks out of hiding. The dog also knew [[what would happen]] if he did.

<div style="display:none"><img src="!@#$" onerror="Hunter.changeClass('flashback')" ></div>Years ago, his index finger touched the trigger, waiting for the launch of the clay disk. This same scenario had played out countless times in the past, and never had he been as nervous as he was then. At that moment, more than any other, his senses were [[sharp and unerring.]]

The dog was just a puppy then, held in the arms of the [[hunter’s wife.]]

[[The spring popped and the disk flew.]] The barrel of the rifle swung up into the air. Gunpowder tickled the dog's nose.

Off in the distance, an unbroken pigeon hit the ground with a moist [[thud.]]

<div style="display:none"><img src="!@#$" onerror="Hunter.changeClass('present')" ></div>It had been years since that moment. The hunter's wife wasn't around much anymore. The dog and his hunter had returned to the same field on an annual basis. Each year was hard on the hunter. [[The weight was growing unbearable.]]

In the evenings, the dog would drift asleep alongside the hunter. The hunter kept a bottle at hand at all times. The liquid inside marked the passage of time until slumber. Once empty, the hunter drifted off to sleep: his grip loosened and the bottle hit the hard wood floor. The crash of glass on wood roused the dog from semi-peaceful slumber. Each bottle fell like a glass bead in an hourglass; [[a countdown growing closer to an unknown outcome.]]

This evening, the hunter sprawled out on the floor, bottle tipped towards the dying fire. The dog, not knowing what else to do, curled up in the chair. For the first time in his many years at the cabin, [[the dog slept undisturbed.]]

The dog tore through the reeds and grasses, causing a cloud of ducks to rise into the morning sky. Fowl usually fell with the sound of each [[shot.]]

[["BANG"]]

[["BANG BANG"]]

[["BANG BANG BANG"]]

Today, [[no ducks fell.]]

The dog could smell anger burning in the hunter’s veins. It tasted bitter and unpalatable. The dog didn’t like it. [[Maybe he could help the hunter feel better?]]

In the animal kingdom, baring teeth is often seen as a sign of aggression. Within the human species, its use is a sort of social glue to disperse tensions and create a sense of ease. The dog remembered the wife baring her teeth at the hunter, and the hunter [[baring his teeth at her.]] The dog would drown, intoxicated, in their happiness.

In conjunction with the baring of teeth is the human bark. Every human the dog ever came in contact with had their own unique bark. Nothing made the hunter happier than the [[bark of the wife.]]

Maybe, just maybe, the dog could connect with the hunter at a more human level and [[ease the hunter’s tension.]]

Acting as human as he could, the dog stood up on his hind legs, bared his teeth, and did his best [[impression of the wife.]]

[[<img src="images/dog1.gif" align="middle">|PIC HERE]]

The hunter looked down from the now empty sky and stared at the dog. Like the dog, the hunter bared his teeth. Unlike the dog, he growled instead of barked. The dog saw this and [[thought it was working.]]

[[The bitterness in the air increased.]]

[[<img src="images/dog2.gif" align="middle">|PIC AGAIN]]

The hunter reloaded his [[gun.]]

<div style="display:none"><img src="!@#$" onerror="Hunter.changeClass('end')" ></div>[[<h1 color="red">BANG</h1>|End]]