by Steven Chevalia

Created on: July 10, 2009

Phillip tried to train Rover to sit, roll over, play dead, and several of the other most common tricks for house hold dogs. Rover never seemed interested in the gimmicks Phillip came up with. Rover would sit and stare, as if wondering when the human would stop talking and just feed him. After Rover turned two Phillip gave up and told his mother, "I think Rover's going through a teenage stage. He doesn't want to listen to anything I say."

His mother, Wendy, hadn't said anything to that, but her eye roll was more than enough. It was when Rover turned four that Phillip began putting an interest into teaching Rover again. "Now that he's an adult maybe he'll learn to behave like one." Rover did. He began to sit, rollover, and speak when commanded. Yet, playing dead was one thing he wouldn't do. Phillip tried to think of why Rover wouldn't do that and couldn't come up with anything other than, "Well, Rover is a complicated individual. He's optimistic by nature, you see? He doesn't want to play dead because he realizes that one day we all die." This was, of course, when Phillip was a sophomore in high school taking the basic Philosophy class.

Phillip's father, Martin, pitched ideas to him every now and then about how to get Rover to pay attention. Martin would say, "Well, you need bait. What can you give Rover that will make him play dead for you?" Phillip ignored his father's advice since he considered it all, "Door to door salesman jargon."

It was May fifth of two-thousand-and-four when Rover played dead. The sun was out and the birds were singing. Phillip was outside in the backyard with Rover, who was now six, and threw a tennis ball across the acre lot and waited for Rover to retrieve it. The Golden Retriever did, his golden fur glistening in the sun as he bounced up and down, almost flying through the air. Phillip would take it from him and throw it again. The tennis ball became warn as bite marks began to wear through the rubbery material and Phillip tired of the game.

"Dinner time!" Wendy called out the back door, starting a race between boy and dog towards the screen door. Rover won and sneaked in through the dog door before Phillip could shove him out of the way and manage to slide in the main door. The aroma of chicken wafted through the kitchen into the laundry room, where Phillip removed his muddy tennis shoes. Rover shook himself, spraying a little mud from the rain earlier that week. A few specks of mud landed on Phillip and he cursed at the dog,

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