“Harry, where are you?” I called for the umpteenth time, certain I’d seen my beagle run into the hat booth.
“If you don’t come out right now, I’m leaving without you!” Right. Like I could ever leave behind the most irritating, beloved thing in my life.
He’d been gone over an hour. “Harry!” My voice quivered.
The woman in the booth looked up and pointed with her knitting needles. “Why, there he is!”
There he was indeed, peeking through several stacks of hats. Relieved, I grabbed him.
“Nothing harder to find . . .” The woman grinned. “. . . than a beagle in a hatstack.”
Author Note: Though this story is fiction, I know well the feeling of chasing, even losing a beagle. Long ago, I wrote a haiku about losing my beagle.
Beagle on a scent
Nose pressed to the ground until
The way home is lost.
Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt.
Click HERE to read more stories in an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers.
Thank you to Björn Rudberg for this week’s very challenging photo prompt!