Microfiction Monday #24

Susan from Stony River, welcomes us to Microfiction Monday,
where a picture paints just 140 characters.
That means you have to be prepared to read between the lines.

If you’d like to join us, stop by Susan’s, pick up the picture prompt,
compose your story in 140 character (or less), post it,
and sign in at Susan’s place, then commence in the sharing!

Oops!

“You know son, I think you should’ve given a little more thought to where we were standin’ before you tossed that stick and yelled, Fetch!”

36 thoughts on “Microfiction Monday #24

  1. here I am at 12:10 am and no Puny Monday, what happened? Stayed up late for naught!!! xoxoxoo
    just got my mail yesterday….wow postage is expensive. get with you asap LOVE YOU

  2. LOL! I love how a whole story or scenario can be created with only 140 characters! I can just see the poor doggie trying to fetch that stick in the stream — unless it was like ours, who won’t go near the water.

    I loved this photo but so far haven’t come up with anything for it yet.

  3. yikes, poor pooch! i hope he sprinkles the culprit when he shakes off the water πŸ˜‰

    (and on an unrelated note, grrrrrrrrr! you happen to say a nice word about blogger and the next thing you know, it’s having issues!)

  4. OH no — ROFL! You brought back such a happy camping memory with this one — we took our little dog with us once (a Sheltie) and she had a merry time fetching sticks we threw while we set up camp. Hours later we were all sitting around, just chatting, and without thinking someone lobbed a stick into the river beside us — and the dog raced after it, dove into the water, and just disappeared. We all sat stunned and then when we realised she hadn’t reappeared, we all charged the water and dragged her out. That was a wonderful weekend all around, lots of fun.

    You’ve got me looking forward to the summer now Quilly!

    • Susan — I taught my wonderful yellow lab (George) to fetch, then one day we went to the woods to get firewood. I needed to clear the path from the tree my ex-husband was sawing up to the pickup, so I walked the trail picking up whatever might trip us and tossing it away — mostly large sticks and branches. At the end of the trail I looked back over my shoulder to note that George had fetched all the sticks and returned them to the path. Good dog. Pft.

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