Have you ever wondered what the Wizard of Oz was like for Toto instead of Dorothy? Here's a small excerpt from a piece I am writing in which unravels the mind of Toto and his perspective on the Wizard of Oz.

Toto-ally Done

I know what you're thinking. Not another story about a talking dog. But, get this: I'm over it. You listen to me, now. Not once throughout my entire journey through Oz, which cinematically became solely "Dorothy's journey through Oz," did anyone let me voice my opinion.

Do you really think I would voluntarily put myself in a situation where I would be whisked away to a land where there's no Golden Puppy Chow? Listen—that Dorothy chick? She's straight up crazy. Bonkers. A little woo-woo in the upstairs. Interested now, America? That's what I thought. I'm the real star; a hidden gem in the shadow of that red-shoed lunatic.

It all began as I was kneading my spine into the silky green hairs that were protruding from the Kansas soil. My tongue lapped up the sweet air like the honey Uncle Henry would sneak me when no one was looking.

Dorothy giggled as her hand scratched at my furry belly, full of love and gratitude. I remember thinking, yes. I can tolerate this. But THEN, this woman picks me up (the star of this movie remember) as if I'm not fully capable of walking on my own. Like a sack of dead-beat rocks, she hauls me back home.

Although, we both knew full well that I could out-run her. Have you ever seen that girl run? It's a sad jog, at best. That is me being generous. The sky morphs into a milky terrain of black ash against my wandering eyes. Would you like to know the best part? We were in town so Dorothy could fool around, when she happened to glance at the sky's color, despite my persistent barking.

Let me tell you, I am not the sack of rocks. They're between her ears.