They laughed and laughed when I named him Lassie.
“Didn’t I know Lassie was a collie? Didn’t I know that Lassie was a girl? Didn’t I know that Lassie was not black?” There were many more one-liners… inappropriate to repeat.
Made sense to me… Every Timmy should have a Lassie. Even if Timmy was in Afghanistan.
her him on my first day at the mission.
Hundreds of dogs were already on the front lines trained to detect explosives, sniff out drugs, locate missing comrades, and even target enemy combatants.
We were training repo dogs. Their original owners had not completed their tour of duty. (A pleasant euphemism for killed-in-action.)
We were retraining these dogs to become therapy-service dogs.
After being in post for three weeks, our command center fell under attack. It wasn’t really funny, but yet it was.
While under fire, my bunk mate was on guard duty. A localized blast lifted him and placed him at the bottom of our small well.
You guessed it. It was Lassie who found him.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Challenge #57. Requirements: Create a 150 word (+ /- 25 words) flash fiction story using the given photo prompt.