Write a scene from the point of view of a rescue dog.
Hurry. Hurry. Sniff. Nothing.
Dig. Dig. DIG.
Sniff. Still nothing.
I turned my eyes to Jake and whined. "I can't find her."
"Come on, boy. You can do this. We've got to keep looking." He patted my head as he searched the canyon around us. "Maybe she's a little farther up."
A little farther up. Yes. But then--
I pricked up my ears. I heard it. A scratch unlike the scratches of the field mice and ravens. From behind us.
Hurry. Hurry. Sniff. Nothing. I stood still, listening, trying to listen. "What is it, boy?"
A low growl emanated from my throat. Jake needed to be quiet. I needed to listen. Luckily, he was a smart human. He stood still and cocked his head.
The scratch came again. Just to my side. How could scratching come from within the red rock walls?
I barked and clawed at the stone, but nothing happened. I sniffed around and around, up and down in the sand and water that covered the ground. My paws slipped once in a hole and I tumbled forward, but quickly resumed my search. But there was no opening. And the only scent I could get was from last night's flood, water and dirt and trees. No scent of human anywhere.
I went back to the place of the scratching and whined. "Sampson, this is nothing but rock." I whined again, trying to get him to understand what I knew--the girl was behind the rock. Jake squatted down next to me. I licked his face, then turned my nose to the rocks, hoping he would understand. He cocked his head to the side and studied me, then stood and called, "Hello?"
"Help," came a small sound from behind the rock. Jake's eyes grew wide, and I knew then that he had heard her, that he knew where she was. "Good boy," he said, patting my head as he examined the wall. His hands moved up and down, over the wall, touching places I would never reach. Then he started to climb. I barked and jumped, but I couldn't follow him. My legs wouldn't move like that.
But I had to do something. So I started to dig. Each paw-full of sand I moved away was quickly replaced by water, but I dug anyway. I dug until my belly was in water, and then I couldn't dig any more. But I didn't need to.
I gazed up to see Jake shimmy into a crevice and disappear. Oh, no. How was I going to get to him? I had to get to him. I scrambled on the rock but slipped back down into my puddle. I barked and heard a muffled sound in reply. I barked again and jumped. But there was nothing I could do. I lay my head down and whined.
Then I went completely still. Someone was coming. No, some more than one.
I crouched and growled as two men walked around the corner of the canyon and came into sight. They stopped when they spotted me. "Look, Alez. A dog. What is a mangy dog doing in the canyon? Alone?"
The other man, the evil one, sneered. "Perhaps he's not alone."
Dog photo from here.
Slot Canyon Photo from here
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