{"id":8025,"date":"2019-01-22T15:06:14","date_gmt":"2019-01-22T22:06:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=8025"},"modified":"2019-01-22T15:06:14","modified_gmt":"2019-01-22T22:06:14","slug":"the-secret-life-of-randy","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=8025","title":{"rendered":"The Secret Life of Randy"},"content":{"rendered":"

Ben von Jagow <\/strong><\/p>\n

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Sometimes, when I have the house to myself, I pretend to be a dog. I get down on all fours and roam around with Sutch and Rusty, who are also dogs. It sounds more exciting than it really is. For the most part, we nap, or lie by the front door and await the return of one of the humans. But sometimes it\u2019s fun. Sometimes, we bark at people walking on the street, or we make a mess of the garbage, or we lie on the furniture which mother, sorry Master, says we\u2019re never to do. But what mother doesn\u2019t know can\u2019t hurt her. That\u2019s what Sutch says. Actually what Sutch says is \u201cBark bark bark bark,\u201d which I assume means what mother doesn\u2019t know can\u2019t hurt her.<\/p>\n

One day, mother leaves to run errands, which usually means she\u2019ll be out of the house for an extended period of time, which is when I prefer to well, be a dog. On this particular day though, mother does not close the front door. The screen door is closed but the front door is not. So myself, Sutch, and Rusty do what any three dogs finding themselves in that situation would do, we go outside.<\/p>\n

Rusty pushes the screen door open with his snout and Sutch and I file out after him. The sun is bright and the air resplendent with a million tantalizing smells, all of them beckoning. Sutch signals that we should go left but I, being the alpha, say we go right. I actually prefer we go left too but sometimes it is nice to impose your authority on those beneath you.<\/p>\n

To the right we go, I say in dog, and the three of us trot down the street. Sutch and Rusty are faster than I am, they\u2019re seasoned and more adept at four-legged transport, but I am nothing if not a trooper. I crawl behind earnestly, eagerly, and bask in the glorious day.<\/p>\n

We pass Mrs. Black who says \u201cNow just what are you doing young man?\u201d<\/p>\n

I bark at her and she says \u201cLord have mercy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then we spot the mailman. We detest the mailman. The three of us begin growling and barking and he says \u201cWhat the fuck are you doing kid?\u201d So I growl some more and try to bite his leg. He says \u201cI will fucking end you,\u201d but he backs away.<\/p>\n

We continue up Dorchester Street, all the way to Billingsley. The walk is wonderful and the three of us revel in our newfound freedom. Perhaps we will never return home. We carry onward, towards the park that is nestled between Billingsley and Abbott, when something captures our attention.<\/p>\n

A ball, tiny and red, bounces twice, three times, down a nearby driveway and immediately we — Rusty, Sutch, and myself — are in pursuit. The ball picks up speed as it hops down the asphalt. The three of us are hot on its tail. The ball is red, made of Indian rubber, and is hefty. It is undoubtedly a lacrosse ball. That is what the human in me would have noticed. But right now I am in dog mode and all I see is a ball, something to be retrieved at all costs.<\/p>\n

The ball is rolling now, down the driveway and into the street. We continue after it. The human in me knows that to follow a ball into the street would be foolhardy but right now my animal instincts take precedence. So I chase the object. It must be chased. It must be retrieved. I\u2019m close. I can almost reach it an-<\/p>\n

SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH.<\/p>\n

The noise is loud and piercing. Like a tortured bird. It fills my ears. I\u2019m afraid to move. The dog in me has been vanquished, supplanted by something more visceral, more human. Panic and fear flood through my veins. I look up to see Rusty and Sutch clearing the street. They look scared. But soon they will forget about what happened. I do not have that luxury. The screech will be embossed in my conscious for some time to come.<\/p>\n

I turn toward the car that almost hit us. It is stopped only a couple of feet away from me. I can reach out and touch the fender but I don\u2019t. Instead, I look up, through the windshield and lock eyes with my mother.<\/p>\n

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BEN VON JAGOW<\/strong> is a writer from Ottawa, Canada. He studied business at the University of Western Ontario before leaving the country to wander. Ben\u2019s work has appeared or is scheduled to appear in Splickety Magazine<\/em>, Foliate Oak Literary Review<\/em>, and American Football International<\/em>. For more of Ben\u2019s work visit benviajando.wordpress.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Ben von Jagow     Sometimes, when I have the house to myself, I pretend to be a dog. I get down on all fours and roam around with Sutch and Rusty, who are also dogs. It sounds more exciting … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":8017,"menu_order":7,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-8025","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P15duy-25r","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8025","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8025"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8025\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8039,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8025\/revisions\/8039"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8017"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8025"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}