Hello! Welcome to Stories Podcast. I'm your host, Amanda Weldon.
Today's story is a throwback episode. Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around.
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Thanks! Enjoy the episode! Today's story is Dog King, Dog Days of Summer, an original story by Daniel Hines.
Dog King. He's the king of the dogs. Dog King.
He's the king of the dogs. Dog King. He's the king of the dogs.
Dog King. He's the king of the dogs. His mother was a dog.
His father was a king. So now he's Dog King.
And he's king of the dogs. Dog King. His bite is worse than his bark.
Dog King. Because he bites like a shark.
Dog King. You know he's ruling the streets.
Dog King, he won't roll over for treats.
His mother was a dog, his father was a king, so now he's Dog King, and he's King of the Dogs.
Dog King! Today we find Dog King, King of the Dogs, lying on his throne, gazing out at his kingdom.
All over the alley, his subjects were stretched out and panting in the summer sun.
It was hot. It was hotter than hot. The chocolate labs were drooping like candy bars melted in their wrappers.
The wiener dogs sagged and wrinkled like gas station hot dogs.
The short-haired dogs were miserable, and the long-haired dogs were begging for someone, anyone to shave them.
Safe to say, all the dogs in Dog King's Alley were missing the cool breezes of spring, but one was having a particularly tough time adjusting.
Oh, it's so hot. We'll all be melted by suntown.
Dog King, if I don't make it, I want you to have my squeaky duck.
She's buried under my owner's couch. Just don't chew her too hard.
Be easy with her beak and her wings. And don't rip the squeaker.
And don't move it. Just leave her buried there.
Actually, I'm taking her with me. Forget I said anything.
Sure thing, Pickles. Dog King! The sun!
The blistering sun! Oh, Ducky, I'm coming home!
Okay, pal. I'm melting! I'm melting! Pickles, don't be so dramatic, said a long-haired Pekingese.
I heard humans call these the dog days of summer.
Well, they're not in my days. My days wouldn't be so hot, and there'd be belly scratches and all the table scraps you could eat.
Pickles got a faraway look in his eyes. The fat from meat and crusts from pizza, broccoli from the little human and shredded cheese that goes everywhere, gravy on everything and... That's enough, Pickles.
You're making me hungry, and it's not even second breakfast.
Just tell me what's on the royal schedule for today.
Well, there's the 9.45 bark at birds. Um, it's too hot to bark at birds.
Well, there's the 10.05 bark at cars. Too hot?
Okay, next up we have 10.15 bark at each other.
Pickles, it's too hot to bark at anything.
What else do we have? Pickles moved down his list, whispering to himself.
Barking it butts us out, so is barking at kids and mailmen and trees.
Cats, diners, police, bark, bark, bark. Oh, here it is.
We have an after-dinner swim at the town pool.
Yes, perfect. Let's move that up. Like to now, like to right now.
I would, your kingliness, but I can't. And why not?
Do I need to make it a royal order? The reason we go at night is because the humans are there during the day.
Dog King paused to think, scratching idly at his favorite group of fleas.
You're right, that is tricky. But in light of today's heat, I'm willing to share the pool with a few humans.
He turned to address the assembled hot dogs of his kingdom.
Friends, we are going swimming! The dogs all howled and yipped and whined.
They barked and wagged and shook. A golden doodle hopped back and forth wild as a jumping bean.
An old terrier spun so fast he threw up into a broken banana box.
Needless to say, everyone was excited. Leaving their alley kingdom behind, they started off towards the pool.
They crossed a quiet street and a busy street.
They forded across a muddy stream and waded their way through an outdoor mall.
They walked in a long, panting line. Dog King, as always, led the way.
Behind him was Pickles, who rode on the back of a good-natured but slow-witted St.
Bernard. Then came a Dalmatian and foxhound and cocker spaniel and dogs of every shape and size, and last of all, a corgi so fat his little legs barely showed under his giant belly.
When they got to the pool, the dogs all smiled big toothy grins.
It was surrounded by a fence, but it was only chain link so they could see right in.
The water was bright and blue and cool looking.
People were all over, swimming and running and shouting.
Coolers full of snacks and sandwiches sat unattended on lounge chairs, and small patches of grass were just begging to be peed on.
It was dog heaven. Crown perched carefully atop his head, Dog King marched right up to the gate.
He would have marched right through the gate, but a human, quite rudely, blocked his way.
The human had a splotchy white cream on his nose.
He wore a whistle and bright red shorts.
Said the human, pointing away from the pool.
Sorry, none of us speak human, Dog King said.
But all the human heard was bark, bark, bark.
He leaned his splotchy white cream nose down and put it just about touching Dog King, and then he put his whistle between his lips and blew a loud blast.
The whistle screeched and all the dogs broke and ran away, the loud noise hurting their sensitive ears.
Dog King was the last to go. He picked up Pickles, who seemed too scared to move, and carried him back to the alley.
Ah, thanks, Dog King, said Pickles when they all got back.
Loud noises give me the shakes. Of course, my royal assistant, I'd never leave a dog behind, said Dog King, settling back onto his dirty mattress throne.
He was panting heavily from the sweltering heat on the run back.
The other dogs were all doing the same. A swim was definitely in order.
Friends? The human didn't let us into the pool?
And why not? I think I have the answer. The dogs all looked on expectantly.
It's because we weren't wearing bathing suits.
Every human at the pool had them on, and we should too.
The dogs all looked about, confused, until Pickles hollered.
You heard the king! We're hunting suits!
And then they all sprang into action. Barrels were tipped, garbage bags were ripped open, and Dog King himself rooted through a dumpster that stunk as bad as three dumpsters.
In the end, a scrappy mutt named Callie found a pair of faded plaid shorts with a mustard stain on one side.
Dog King inspected the stain for flavor, pronounced it delicious, and declared the shorts a perfect find.
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Now who will wear the shorts? asked Dog King.
He himself tried them on first, but they were too small.
Pickles went next, but they were so big he got lost in a pocket and had to be rescued by a well-trained Pomeranian.
Dog after dog tried on the shorts until finally they had their perfect fit, a fuzzy bunny-loving pit bull by the name of Rambo.
Rambo, are you ready for your mission? asked Dog King.
Sir, yes, sir, Rambo said. A slight wedgie, but nothing I can't live with, sir.
All right, if you get in, make sure to report back.
Rambo saluted with one rust brown paw and then took off running, doing his best to stay in the shade and out of the crushing sun.
He got to the pool and walked right up to the gate.
They hadn't thought to cut a hole for his tail and the butt of his shorts was wagging wildly.
The human with the splotchy white cream nose saw him coming and blocked the way.
The shorts weren't working. Rambo started to panic.
Hey, friend, I like your shorts. Do you like my shorts?
We should start a club or something for dogs with cool shorts and people who have cool shorts also.
Rambo tried to say it calmly, but he was so scared it came out louder and faster than he meant it.
So, of course, all the human heard was, Bark, bark, bark, bark, bark!
This time, he blew the whistle even louder than the last, and Rambo went back to the alley, defeated.
No matter, said Dog King, when Rambo relayed the news.
I have another, even better idea. The dogs all leaned in to hear, ears perked and heads tilted.
To get past the gatekeeper, we need to become the gatekeeper.
What does that even mean? called out the boxer known as Other Other Rex.
He has the shorts, but what else does that human have that Rambo doesn't?
The dogs all thought about it for a moment, and then Pickles said, Piercing blue eyes?
Nope, that's not it. The nose cream! Another dog yelled out.
Exactly, said Dog King. And I have just the thing.
Ten minutes later, Rambo was marching up towards the gate again.
This time, in addition to his shorts, he had a glob of mayonnaise spread across his nose.
Dog King had found it in the dumpster earlier, and in the oven-like heat from the sun, it smelled so strong that Rambo could barely stand it.
I'm not going to lick my nose! I'm not going to lick my nose!
Rambo chanted to himself. The mayonnaise began to melt in the sun.
A slow drip rolled down his snout and over his nose.
It smelled so strong and rich that Rambo began to whine.
I'm not going to lick my nose! I'm not going to lick my nose!
The drip of mayo continued down and rolled over his jowly lips and onto his hanging tongue.
The taste was so good that Rambo threw himself down in the grass and began wildly licking at his nose.
He rolled and spun and jumped and his tongue went wild.
And needless to say, he wasn't allowed into the pool.
When he reported back to the alley, the other dogs all whined with dismay.
It seemed as though they would never get to the pool.
Now, now, friend, don't worry, said Dog King.
Your king has saved the best idea for last.
If it was the best idea, why did you save it for last, called out other, other Rex.
For dramatic effect. Now, if there are no other interruptions, I'll explain my plan.
The dog sat up eagerly, trying to keep their panting as quiet as possible.
When we first got there, I noticed everyone inside was running and yelling.
I think that was our mistake. We weren't running or yelling.
This time, we need to do both. Once they see how good we can run and yell, they'll let us in for sure.
He turned to Pickles. Remember how I said it was too hot for barking?
Well, I was wrong. The two dogs grinned at each other.
So it was that Dog King led his subjects across a quiet street and a busy street.
They forded across a muddy stream and waded their way through an outdoor mall.
But this time, instead of walking in a long, panting line, they ran in a wild, happy group.
Little dogs jumped over and around big dogs.
Big dogs ran up and over parked cars lining the street.
Their barks and howls of joy echoed off the buildings and made people go to their windows to see what all the fuss was about.
And when they got to the pool, the humans all looked up at the same time to see what was coming.
Since they didn't speak dog, they couldn't tell that all the dogs were saying was swim, swim, swim.
All they heard was bark, bark, bark, and the clamor of fast-moving pups.
Everybody stay calm, called the human at the gate.
It's a pack of wild dogs! Everybody run! screamed another human from nearby.
Given the two options, all of the humans chose to run.
Even the gate guardian, after hovering indecisively at his post, broke and ran away.
Dog King and his pack didn't even slow down.
Running and barking and wagging and drooling, they poured through the gate and jumped into the pool.
Splash after splash soaked the lawn chairs and towels as furry bodies plunged into the cool waters.
Pickles executed a somewhat shaky swan dive.
Rambo crashed in with a cannonball, and Dog King hit with a belly flop so big it soaked them all.
A little later, dog paddling in lazy circles, Dog King found Pickles floating by on a raft, sandwich crusts in one cup holder and a fancy drink in the other.
Now this is what I call a dog day, said Pickles.
They all swam for hours, finally getting out as the sun began to set.
They walked home, tired, wet, and happy, Dog King, as always, leading the way.
Dog King, he's the king of the dogs. Dog King, he's the king of the dogs.
Dog King, he's the king of the dogs. Dog King, he's the king of the dogs.
His mother was a dog, his father was a king.
So now he's Dog King, and he's king of the dogs.
Dog King. His bite is worse than his bark.
Dog King. Because he bites like a shark.
Dog King. You know he's ruling the streets.
Dog King. He won't roll over for treats.
His mother was a dog. His father was a king.
So now he's Dog King. And he's king of the dogs.
Dog King. Today's story, Dog King, Dog Days of Summer, is an original story written by Daniel Hines and performed by me, Amanda Weldon.
The theme song is by us both. If you would like to support Stories Podcast, you can leave us a 5-star review on iTunes.
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Thanks for listening!
