The Old Blog in the Desert

Often, Buddy will lie beside me, either in the big chair or on the bed, and dream. I can’t help but wonder what it is he dreams about, and sometimes I think it’s about pirates and treasure.

And so, it all began at the Bark & Barrel Inn, a cozy little place run by a young pup named Buddy Pawkins and his mother, Muzzle. One foggy night, a grizzled old hound named Billy Bones dragged his weary paws up to their doorstep, carrying a weathered chest that smelled of sea salt and secrets.

He rented a room, growled at strangers, and howled in his sleep about “One-Eyed Flint and his buried bone.” When Billy Bones finally crossed the rainbow bridge after one growl too many, Buddy’s mother sniffed through his belongings.

“Looks like a map,” Muzzle said.

Buddy’s ears perked. “And that red X—could it be buried treasure? The Bone of Fortune.”

X marked the spot where Flint had buried his legendary Bone of Fortune. Buddy’s tail wagged so hard he nearly knocked over a lantern.

Word of the map spread fast. Soon, the noble Squire Tailawney and Doctor Livelyhound decided to fetch the treasure.

“Lads, we’ll fetch the treasure!” Tailawney said. “I’ve bought us a fine ship!”

“Adventure!” cried Buddy. “When do we sail?”

“As soon as we find a crew,” the Squire said. “And a good cook, of course.”

They hired a grand ship called the Houndspañola and a crew of salty sea dogs to sail for the island. Among them was a friendly, three-legged Dalmatian named Long Jaw Silver, who ran the galley and told the best stories.

“Welcome, young Pawkins,” Silver said, flipping a biscuit in the air and catching it in his mouth. “Stick with old Silver, and you’ll live to bury your own bones someday.”

He always shared his biscuits, though sometimes his smile looked a bit too wide. As they sailed, Jimmy’s nose told him something was off, as the scent of deceit lingered like spoiled kibble.

One moonlit night, hiding behind some barrels, he overheard Silver and the other sea dogs plotting a mutiny. They planned to take the Bone of Fortune for themselves.

“When we reach the island, we’ll take the Bone and leave the rest to swim home,” snarled a bulldog.

“Aye,” said Silver softly. “Let’s just keep the young pup close till the digging’s done.”

Buddy’s hackles rose. “Mutiny,” he whispered, heart pounding like paws on hardwood.

His fur bristled, but he stayed quiet, biding his time.

When the Houndspañola reached Treasure Island, chaos broke loose. The loyal crew barked and bit back against the mutineers.

Buddy, brave as a German Short Hair in a thunderstorm, snuck aboard the abandoned ship, growled down a pirate, and managed to steer her into a secret cove.

“Starboard side’s clear!” shouted Doctor Livelyhound.

“Hold the deck!” Buddy barked. “Don’t let ‘em near the treats—uh, I mean, treasure!”

But the mutineers found him and dragged him to their stockade, tails high and teeth bared. Long Jaw Silver, clever old dog that he was, took a liking to Buddy.

“You’re a brave little critter,” he said with a wink. “Don’t worry, lad. Ol’ Silver keeps his promises most of the time.”

Buddy glared. “You’re nothing but a flea-ridden traitor.”

Silver chuckled. “Ah, but a clever one.”

Buddy growled at him.

“You’ve got spirit, pup,” he said, guarding him from the others.

When they finally dug up Flint’s hiding spot, they found nothing but bones, plain, old, ordinary bones. The treasure was gone.

“Nothing here but old bones!” one snarled.

Silver tilted his head. “Seems Flint’s outfoxed us all.”

The loyal dogs loaded what little they could find back on the ship. Silver, wagging his tail innocently, helped until they reached the first port. Then he vanished, leaving behind only muddy pawprints and an empty food bowl.

“Where’s Silver?” Buddy asked.

Doctor Livelyhound sighed. “Gone. Slipped off with a bag of treats and his tail between his legs.”

Buddy smiled faintly. “He earned that much, I suppose.”

Buddy returned home richer in spirit, though not much in coin. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he’d dream of the sea breeze ruffling his fur and the jingle of buried bones calling from afar.

He’d start to dig at the sheets, tail thumping, sure he was about to uncover the Bone of Fortune, but it was gone. Then he woke up in the big chair, paws twitching, nose in his blanket.

Buddy gave a big yawn, circled twice, and thought, tomorrow he’d find it for real.