Bark To The Future (Chapter 1): A Whiff of Tomorrow
- Happy Paw'llidays Admin
- Aug 17
- 8 min read
Updated: Aug 30
Chapter 1
The sun poured down on Maplewood Lane, turning every mailbox, picket fence, and garden gnome into part of an overexposed crime scene. At least, that’s how Milo saw it. His chestnut nose hovered just above the grass at the edge of the sidewalk, inhaling every blade and pebble with sharp intensity. His tail stood stiff, his brow furrowed in concentration, as though the truth of the world had been written in dandelion fluff.
“Aha… suspicious,” Milo muttered in his best British drawl, pausing to inspect a lamppost with the gravity of Sherlock Holmes examining a bloody dagger. “Yes, yes, very suspicious indeed.”
“You say that about everything,” Mila sighed, her voice dripping with regal boredom. She carried herself with her head high, trotting with the kind of deliberate elegance only a Chihuahua could achieve when she was certain all eyes should be on her. “Honestly, Milo, one of these days you’ll declare a dandelion guilty of treason.”
Behind them stumbled Mesa, the youngest of the trio. Her legs were too long for her body, her paws too big for her legs, and her enthusiasm far too much for any of the above. She barreled forward, tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, then sprang up again like it had all been intentional. A butterfly fluttered past, and Mesa immediately lunged after it with a squeal.
“Guys, guys, look! Flying snack!”
“That is not a snack,” Mila said flatly, without even glancing. She picked her way around a puddle as if touching it would end her royal bloodline. “It’s an insect. And if you eat it, you’ll belch for an hour, and I will not sit through that again.”
“But it’s so flappy!” Mesa insisted, hopping on her front paws. “Maybe it tastes like sky!”
Milo ignored them both, circling the base of a tree three full times before stopping with a dramatic sniff. His ears twitched, his eyes narrowed, and he lifted his head like a detective piecing together a grisly crime.
“Mark my words,” he said solemnly, “something dreadful occurred here. I can practically smell the conspiracy.”
Mila rolled her eyes. “What you smell is last night’s pizza crust,” she quipped. “Congratulations, detective, you’ve cracked the case of the missing pepperoni.”
Mesa wagged her tail so hard it looked like she might take flight. “Oooh! Can we solve another case? Can we? Can we? Maybe we’ll find buried treasure! Or—or a dragon!”
Milo froze mid-step. His ears stiffened, his gaze locked on the horizon. When he spoke, the humor had drained from his voice.
“Storm’s coming.”
Sure enough, the bright suburban sky dimmed as heavy clouds muscled their way across the sun, swallowing the golden warmth like a stage curtain being yanked shut. A low rumble echoed across the rooftops, making Mesa’s floppy ears twitch nervously.
“Well,” Mila huffed, glaring skyward, “that’s simply marvelous. One moment we’re on a pleasant stroll, the next we’re extras in a gothic horror film.”
Then came the glow.
It shimmered faintly at first, a strange blue pulse bleeding out from the mouth of an alleyway just ahead. It was not the glow of headlights, nor the flash of lightning. It was otherworldly—like the universe had misplaced a star, and it had crash-landed between two dumpsters.
Mesa’s tail wagged double-time. “Shiny! I wanna touch it!”
“Absolutely not,” Mila snapped, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “It’s probably radioactive. Or worse—unfashionable.”
Milo narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice into his most dramatic register. “Only one way to know for certain… and it’s our duty to find out.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Mila muttered as she followed anyway. “Here we go again.”
The alley was narrower than it had looked from the street, a canyon of brick walls sweating with damp. Old rainwater trickled from rusty fire escapes, dripping into shallow puddles littered with cigarette butts and wilted takeout boxes. The glow pulsed brighter at the far end, its reflection winking faintly in the slick pavement.
Mesa shot ahead, paws slapping through the puddles with all the grace of a baby giraffe on roller skates. “C’mon, slowpokes! Adventure awaits!” she barked, her nose leading her like a compass.
“Brilliant,” Mila muttered, tiptoeing along the driest patches of ground she could find. “If we’re lucky, she’ll trip and activate a nuclear warhead.”
Milo moved with deliberate care, his nose twitching, ears erect. He paused halfway down, drawing in a deep, theatrical sniff. “Something isn’t right here,” he declared in his practiced detective tone. “This alley doesn’t smell like a normal alley. It smells… like destiny.”
“Destiny smells like old french fries,” Mila replied without missing a step.
At the alley’s dead end sat a wooden box, weathered by time. Its surface was carved with strange swirling symbols that seemed to glow faintly in rhythm with the storm-dark air.
Mesa gasped. “Treasure chest!” She lunged at it instantly, pawing the sides with stubby claws. “Open, open, open!”
“For heaven’s sake, Mesa, have you no self-preservation?” Mila scolded, perching herself on the only dry patch of pavement like a queen on her throne. “You don’t go pawing at strange glowing artifacts in alleys. That’s, like, Rule Number One of not dying.”
Milo circled the box, every movement precise and deliberate. His expression was one of deep concern. “Indeed. Artifacts such as these are usually cursed, enchanted, or both. We must handle this with extreme caution.”
Mesa cocked her head. “What’s cursed mean? Like itchy?”
“It means we all die in terrible, dramatic fashion,” Mila deadpanned. “Now step away before you doom us all.”
But curiosity, as always, outweighed caution. Mesa pressed her nose to the lid, nudged it once, and with a soft creak, the box opened.
The lid gave way with a reluctant groan, as though it, too, disapproved of Mesa’s lack of restraint. Inside lay a collar unlike any the trio had ever seen. It gleamed with a metallic sheen, etched with fine patterns that seemed to shift as the stormlight flickered. At its center was a small clock face, its hands twitching nervously, surrounded by dials and buttons that glowed faintly in blues and greens.
Mesa’s eyes widened to saucers. “Ooooh… shiny neck thingy!” she barked, her paws dancing with excitement. “I call dibs!”
“Absolutely not,” Mila snapped, her nose scrunching in disdain. “That thing is radiating more bad vibes than your pawprints on my pillow.”
Milo stepped closer, sniffing with the cautious curiosity of a detective closing in on evidence. His voice dipped into his most dramatic register. “Remarkable. This is no ordinary collar. I’d wager it’s a device of… temporal manipulation.”
“English, Sherlock,” Mila sighed.
“Time travel,” Milo clarified, puffing his chest as though he’d just solved the meaning of life.
Mesa’s tail went into overdrive. “Time travel?! Like… dinosaurs? Knights? Lasers? DINOSAUR KNIGHTS WITH LASERS?!”
Before either of her companions could stop her, Mesa pressed her paw against the largest button on the collar.
The clock face began to spin wildly. The dials clicked and whirred, the glow intensifying until the entire alley was bathed in blue light. The storm seemed to freeze in place, raindrops hanging motionless in the air like glass beads. The ground vibrated, a hum building until it rattled in their bones.
Mila’s ears shot back. “Oh no. No no no no—Mesa, what did you do?!”
Mesa winced but grinned sheepishly. “Uh… science?”
With a crackle of static, a figure shimmered into view above the collar. At first, it was a blur, flickering and glitching, until the shape resolved into an elderly Schnauzer in a crisp white lab coat. His fur was wild, his bushy brows nearly covering his wise, kind eyes. Round aviator goggles rested on his forehead, and the edges of his coat flickered as though made of light.
“Greetings, young travelers!” the hologram barked warmly. “I am Dr. Wagglesworth. And it seems you’ve stumbled upon my Temporal Collar. Splendid! Just splendid! You are precisely the sort of team I need—”
The collar gave a violent spark, interrupting him. His hologram glitched, cutting his body in half for a second before snapping back together.
“Blast it! Not again,” he muttered, adjusting his goggles though they weren’t even real. “Listen closely, pups. This device is unstable. It should allow you to leap through time, but—”
The hum reached a deafening pitch. The air warped around them.
“Wait!” Dr. Wagglesworth shouted, his voice breaking through static. “I haven’t told you how to—”
And then the world ripped apart.
They reappeared in the middle of a prehistoric jungle, vines thicker than telephone poles hanging down from towering ferns. A T-Rex’s roar shook the earth, sending birds the size of small airplanes shrieking from the canopy.
Mesa’s jaw dropped. “DINOSAURS!” she howled, bouncing in place. “I WAS RIGHT!”
“Yes, marvelous,” Mila deadpanned, not moving from her spot. “Do take a good look before we’re eaten alive.”
Milo tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the massive lizard lumbering closer. “Hmm. I’d say we have exactly ninety seconds before this fellow makes us his mid-morning snack.”
The collar sparked again. Light engulfed them.
The next moment, they landed in the middle of a medieval jousting tournament. Knights in gleaming armor galloped past on horses, their lances colliding with an ear-splitting crack. The crowd roared with excitement.
Mesa yipped, chasing after one of the horses. “Pony! Pony! Pony!”
“That is not a pony!” Mila shrieked. “That is a one-ton war beast, and it will flatten you!”
Milo adjusted his posture, sniffing the air. “Ah, the scent of ale, roasted boar, and… is that turnip stew? Yes, most medieval.”
Before they could even process, the collar spun again.
London. 1800s. Fog blanketed the cobblestone streets, gas lamps flickering through the haze. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past. A shadowy figure in a top hat darted around a corner.
“This,” Milo announced proudly, “is my era.” He straightened, slipping into his British PI persona with extra gravitas. “London, land of mysteries. I can smell a dozen cases waiting for me already.”
“You’ll smell horse droppings if you’re not careful,” Mila said with a wrinkled nose.
Before Milo could reply, the collar activated again.
The year 2100. Neon skyscrapers pierced the sky, and sleek hovercars whooshed above. Robots bustled through the streets, their voices humming with polite efficiency.
Mesa gasped, spinning in circles. “Shiny future dog park! Do we get laser bones?!”
A robot poodle strutted past them, casting a judgmental glance that rivaled Mila’s.
“Ugh,” Mila muttered, “I’m already obsolete.”
And just like that, the collar yanked them again.
They landed on golden sand, heat shimmering around them. The Great Pyramids loomed in the distance, their peaks sharp against the blinding sky. Palm trees swayed beside the Nile, and the smell of spice and stone filled the air.
The collar sputtered one last time before going dim.
Dr. Wagglesworth’s hologram reappeared, flickering and distorted. “You’ve… arrived,” he wheezed. “Blast it, the device is damaged. It won’t take you where you choose anymore. Instead, it will… jump… randomly. Once a day.”
“Once a day?!” Mila barked in horror. “You mean to say I’ll be dragged through muddy history every morning until you fix this?”
“Precisely,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “But don’t worry! Keep the collar safe, survive the jumps, and I’ll find a way to repair it. Until then—you’re my only hope.”
His hologram fizzled out.
The three dogs stood in silence for a moment, the enormity of their situation sinking in.
Then Mesa wagged her tail. “Best. Walk. Ever!”
I am currently editing video for the chapter. Stay tuned for next weeks episode. What trouble will our 3 intrepid hero's get into. Also if you haven't already you can check out this series The Bark Side Chronicles: Jedi Wisdom From My Dog.
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