Note: This story about a boy and his dog on the Titanic hasn’t been professionally edited. It was part of a writing challenge to write two scenes from two completely different points of view (characters and actual points of view). There was a list of options for scenes to choose from, and I happened to select the Titanic.
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Paws on Deck: Teddy’s Titanic Adventure
Nope. Nope. Nope. Something isn’t right. I can smell it. Taste it? Nope, I feel it. Hmm… feels like fear. Panic? Yes, panic. Carson and I are lying under the bed playing hide and seek—his favourite game. We play it every night in a different room and even fall asleep. Most of the time, the people searching for us give up and go to bed with no idea we’re under it. We’re the best at this game.
I sniff around, my legs sore from bracing myself. My age has nothing to do with it. The big boat doesn’t stay still. It keeps moving around. I smell…yes, I’m fairly sure a dozen people vomited simultaneously. Beef, bread, cheese…I feel overwhelmed. Or maybe one person ate a dozen meals—lucky bastard. Leftovers! I should check. Never know when I’ll get my next meal.
I paw at the doorhandle. It’s a slippery sucker. I speed up my paws, scratching at the brass handle until the door opens. I sprint down the hallway, smelling more than the food. Some people stink and need to lick themselves more often, including Carson. I can sense his growing fear. He must think we’re going to lose the game. He should learn to loosen up a bit.
“Teddy, come back!” Carson yells, but he’s stuck under the bed. He’s very committed to hide and seek. I love him for that. And I always know where to find him.
Strange how the humans designed the hallway to incline. By the time I reach the end of the hallway and bound up the stairs, I feel like I’m scaling a mountain, or Carson put me on a damn treadmill again. Look, I ain’t that fat. My muscles hurt because I’m on a boat that moves around too much. And I’m not the only one having some trouble making the climb. On the deck, people are yelling and falling all over each other. I dodge left, spring right, and bound over someone that fell, all the while my nose is working for the holy grail of meals. Chicken. I love chicken.
A lake has formed in the middle of the boat. The lake is leaking onto the deck. Only humans would create a lake on a boat that’s on an ocean. The water is splashing all over the deck. My paws are wet and squishy, which is so fun. I take a minute to splash around like a puppy. I’m the only one present enough to let loose. Humans are so intense.
I hear a loud groan that might have been the ship, or my stomach. Okay, gotta get focused. A few hands reach for me, but I dodge them easily. They’re scared I’ll get to the food first. Well, I’m gonna. Don’t know when my next meal is coming. Gotta look out for me and bring some back for Carson. The meat is getting closer. I can practically taste it in the air. Even if someone chewed it a little, we can eat it.
“Teddy. Teddy.”
Shoot, he found me. I love Carson. It’s too bad I have to ignore him because he’s stifling my hunter instincts, coming between me and our next meal. Wait. I’m sliding down the boat, away from the smell, and I’m being shaken like I’m in a doggy dream and Carson is trying to wake me up. I move my paws double quick, but the mountain is growing, same as that damn treadmill. Humans are falling like popcorn out of the popper. I love popcorn. I don’t smell popcorn.
I’m no goat and the climb is getting serious. I met a goat once. Nice goat. Bleeped a lot. No idea what he said. Or her. I should have checked. It smelled bad, even for me. Looked at me funny too. Big, weird lookin eyes.
I hear my name. Carson is holding on to a post. I sense he’s terrified. I should check on him. Only, I’m sliding further away from him and my claws can’t clasp the floor.
“Carson. Carson,” I bark. His eyes are wide. Someone drags Carson away and out of my view as I head down the stairs. Back to our room. Back to hide and seek under the bed. But I have no partner to play with this time. And I’m hungry. No idea when I’ll get to eat again.
A Boy, His Dog, and the Sinking Ship
Carson hid under a bed. He didn’t know whose bed, but he hoped it wasn’t someone too heavy. Last night he’d barely slept because the other bed he’d chosen to hide under buckled. His doggy Teddy lay motionless beside him. Carson rubbed his thick, curly poodle hair, hoping he’d stay put, but his stomach growled. Or was that Carson’s?
Teddy’s head popped up, his nose wiggling around, sniffing. Carson reached for Teddy too late. Teddy sprung away, pawed at the handle like a wild animal, and disappeared down the hallway. Shoot, he thought, someone is going to notice the scratches on the handle.
“Teddy! Come back,” Carson shouted, slamming his head against the bed frame as he rushed after Teddy.
He peeked outside the door, scanning for the security guards. Teddy bound up the stairs in the distance and disappeared. People shouted from the upper deck. Not the happy cheers of a party, but angry…scared, just like Teddy was a lot. Carson wondered what was going on. Where was everyone? The boat heaved upward like it was traversing a tidal wave. It reminded him of his father’s treadmill heading up to a twenty percent incline. Teddy loved running hills on that treadmill. Carson decided that’s why he’d run off—the incline reminded him of the treadmill.
Carson sprinted up the stairs, taking no time at all with the hallway empty. He eyed the deck, searching for Teddy. Carson wasn’t wrong about the shouting. Dozens of people hung to each other or posts, screaming words Carson had never heard before. A pair was ready to fist fight, and a couple of them further up the deck were doing just that. What were they fighting over? Carson wrapped his arms around himself. The deck was so cold at night. He wished he owned a sweater.
The Titanic continued lifting, causing the water in the swimming pool to drain. Carson grabbed a nearby post, holding on tight as the strength of the oncoming water took his feet out from under him. Teddy slid past him, unable to get to his feet. Carson’s teeth jittered and his legs shook as the effects of the icy water took hold.
“Teddy, Teddy,” Carson shouted. Teddy couldn’t make it to him, no matter how hard he tried to swim upward.
“Come on, son,” a man with a violin strapped to his back said. One of his arms held a rope, and the other reached for Carson. “It’s now or never. The last lifeboat is leaving soon and you should be on it.” His vice grip hand grabbed hold of Carson’s arm and pulled him away. Carson faced Teddy, watching him disappear down the staircase. People slid down the deck, screaming and crashing into walls that silenced their pleas for help.
“Teddy,” Carson whispered.
“Chasing that dog probably saved your life, son. Now grab hold of this rope.”
Carson climbed the rope, his feet planted on the floor that now pointed vertically. His hands were so number he barely felt the rope in them. At least one man stood waiting to help at the knot near the nose of the ship. Carson couldn’t hold on anymore and felt himself slip down. The man below nudged him upward.
“Climb, boy. Hurry!”
Carson climbed to the nose of the ship. Dozens of people sat close together, their eyes glazed over like their minds were elsewhere, and they shook like popcorn popping. Carson looked down and realized the ship was falling into the ocean.
“The boat’s gone,” one man said. “They couldn’t wait any longer. When the ship broke in half and started sinking, the safety boats were gone.”
Carson wished he were with Teddy. Maybe there was a doggy-people heaven. He’d like that. They should have gone down together.