My name is Champ, and every June I watch something strange happen on my street. Humans start stuffing bags into their cars, kids run around squealing, and even the neighbor dogs hop in the car.
But not me. Nope. I sit at the window, waiting for my family to say the magic words: “Come on, Champ — we’re going on vacation!” Don’t get me wrong — I love my backyard kiddie pool and fetching is fun, but I dream of adventure. Real adventure. The kind with new smells, new friends and maybe a squirrel who finally wants to talk things out.
One morning, the front door opens just a tiny bit. A sliver. This is it. My moment. I slip out. I am free. Free to roam! Free to sniff! Free to go wherever! The park is blocks away, but I trot there like a hero on a quest. When I arrive, I expect crowds of dogs cheering my arrival. Maybe a parade. At least one friend. But the park is empty. Just me, the grass and a squirrel who refuses to make eye contact.
“That’s OK,” I tell myself. After a while, though, I’m tired. I decide a nap is essential but there’s no soft couch, no fluffy bed, no warm lap. Just a hard patch of dirt under a park bench. I circle. I circle again. Still hard. Still lumpy.
Then my stomach growls. Loudly. Time for lunch. But guess what? My vacation hotspot does not serve kibble on demand. After a long search, I find a used pizza box in a trash can. Jackpot! Or so I think. The slice inside is covered in jalapeños — spicy little monsters that set my tummy on fire. The only water nearby is a muddy puddle that tastes like sadness.
This is not the vacation I imagined.
With my tail drooping and my belly protesting, I head home. I expect a scolding. Instead, the door opens and my family gasps with joy. They scoop me up, give me a warm bath, and serve me bowls of delicious food and fresh water. My soft, cushy bed welcomes me like it missed me.
As I curl up and drift into a peaceful nap, I realize something important: Maybe the grass isn’t greener on the other side. Maybe the best adventures are the ones where you’re safe, loved and home.
