Pop Was a Rock-Climber

A Story of Bulldog Determination...

It wasn’t often that a drag would end in a cliff going out from under them, but the fact remained that the gray Buck Sterling was down a canyon with his kid riding shotgun and his sun-yellow Cherokee a couple hundred feet where it shouldn’t be. The roll-bars kept them safe, but somewhere along the way a rock kicked him square in the chest. When they landed, he finished the rip in his shirt, dusted his shorts off with the ribbons, and hucked the heap of cloth into the back. He turned to check his boy over. The tan pup was unscathed safe for the shock. He picked him up out of the seat and held him tight in his great big arms.

“Pop’ll get us out of here Junior, don’t sweat it.” he said coolly. He set him back down on the seat and gunned the SUV in reverse, backing away from the leviathan rock pile.

Buck swung one sandalled paw down on the brakes and revved the engine up, dropping the car into gear, and into rear-wheel drive. He tousled his six-year-old’s scruff before asking, “ever gone rock-climbing in a hot-rod, kiddo?”

The boy shook his head.

“Ready to try?” A cocky grin lit up the gray wolf’s wide muzzle.