People say I’m an old soul. I don’t exactly know what that means but I like the sound of it.
Journey turned three in May. I turned one year old in July. I feel like part goofy puppy and part grown up.
Me and Journey were trash talking last night when suddenly she got real serious.
“Listen up, Finn,” she said. “If we want to keep BarkingProse going you have to step up your game.”
“Why me, Journey?” I asked. “Why can’t you do the Barks?”
Journey was quiet for a few seconds and lowered her head. When she looked up I saw tears in her eyes.
“It’s not in me, Finn. I’m a hunter not a thinker like you,” Journey said. “I can bark about stuff I do but I don’t have words for how I feel.”
“But Ash raised you,” I insisted. “You were there when he died. He must have told you how to do the Barks.”
“Ash did raise me. He taught me how to play and have fun. He kept me safe and always looked out for me,” Journey said. “But he knew I’d rather chase down a rat than write a Bark.”
“You’re from Asher’s line,” Journey continued. “You have his great big heart inside your silly self. You think before you do something. I just do it.”
I knew that Journey had a point. She was happiest following her nose. That girl can smell a mole two feet in the ground. That’s why she loves her nose work classes so much.
Me, I like to play chase and bark at anything that moves but I’m always looking over my shoulder to see where mom is.
When I’m not playing with Journey I’m usually under a chair watching what the humans are doing.
So maybe it should be my job to tell the world what’s happening at Asherpark. I have to go back to the very first Bark so I know my history. Then maybe I can make sense of why there are so many dog souls that speak to me when I’m real quiet. Dogs I never knew, dogs who come to me when I’m silent.
I told Journey I would think real hard about what she said. If I can do the Barks maybe that would make Journey and our people happy. I’d like that.