Text 1900, 100 rader
Skriven 2005-05-02 14:32:48 av George Pope (1:153/307.11)
Ärende: Mixed Signals (a story)
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Published in the July 1998 issue of Canine Classified (1982-2001)

Mixed Signals
by Michael Nellis

Momma looked from one pup to the other, trying to gauge which one
would need to be gone after and herded back first.  She decided on
puppy three.  She stepped out of the basket, leaving the other two
with her there, and walked quickly over to the straying pup. "Come
along back to the basket, Three.  I want you to stay with the others."

"But, Momma, I want to go explore that crack in the wall. There are
good smells coming from it."

"That's called a door, but not today.  Come back to the basket."

Three didn't answer.  Instead she tried to get around Momma to get
just one sniff from under the door.  Momma reached down and nipped her
on the scruff of the neck, then picked her up and trotted back.
"Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey!  I want to smell the door thing!" Three whined. Then
she was back in the basket and Momma gave her "The Look".  Three
subsided and Momma went for puppy seven.

Puppy seven was watching the janitor.  He had seen the man come in
with a bucket and a mop and a sign.  The sign had been placed sideways
to Seven so that he could not read it.  Seven had been trying to
position himself to see it, but Janitor had been splashing the floor
and then drying it again, so Seven's progress had been slow. Finally,
just as Momma had picked up Three, Janitor stopped splashing and
drying.  Seven stood up and toddled to where he could see the front of
the orange colored sign.  Then he squatted and emptied his bladder on
the clean floor just before Momma got to him.

Unfortunately, Janitor had been watching the pup too. "Hey!  I just
washed that!"  He reached Seven in a couple of strides.  Momma sat
down, uncertain of what to do, and Janitor picked up Seven.  "You
silly pup," Janitor said, and gently tweaked his nose.  "You're not
supposed to do that in here.  Come on, you lot, it's outside with the
bunch of you.  You too, Momma."

Janitor kept Seven in one hand and picked up Two, Three, and Six with
the other.  Then he started for the door to the kennel yard. Momma
trotted along at his side.  Out in the yard, the other four litter
mates in the large basket saw Janitor coming with the pups Vet had
been taking care of.

"What's up, you guys?" Five asked.

Three, who was disappointed at not getting to the door and unhappy
with Momma, decided to take it out on Seven.  "Loss of bladder
control," she said, looking pointedly at the lone pup in the other
hand.  "Guess who made a mess and got us all thrown out."

"Ew!  Seven lost con-tro-ol; Seven lost con-tro-ol," Five chanted.
One gave him a disgusted look as Janitor placed Seven in the basket.

"Well," said One, "that certainly gives me an idea for a name for you,
Seven."

"A name?"  Seven looked at him, curious.  "What name?"

"I think we should call you `European'."

The other six puppies burst into squeals of laughter.  "Hey! That's
not funny!"

Three said to One, loudly, "That's a good idea.  I wonder what kind of
European breed he is.  Do you think he might be a French Piddle?"

Five cocked his head.  "I don't know.  If you ask me he looks more
like a cockapuddle."  This was followed by fresh gales of laughter.

Seven hung his head, then went over to Momma and slumped down into the
wood shavings, looking as if he were ready to cry. "Now, now, dear,"
Momma said, and she draped a paw over his shoulders.  "They were just
teasing.  They don't mean any of it."

"But I don't like it anyway!"

"Well, you have to expect that sort of thing for what you did.  For
heaven's sake, Seven, you know better than that."

"Well, gosh, Momma, what was I supposed to do?  The sign said `WET
FLOOR'."



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