Just Me--1

Hi fellow writers. Let me introduce Arnold to you. He is a four-year-old German Shepard, extremely smart who controls our family. This oversize canine with a coat of midnight black that shows auburn tones in the sunlight is completely secure in his power. If he happens to be asleep and someone steps by him, he doesn’t even flick an ear. Though he lords it over two cats, a poodle, a beagle and countless kids now, things weren’t always like this.1

Why Arnold didn’t turn into a vicious predator amazes me, so I decided to tell his story. There are three version of it—one is strictly adult, the other is for children. This version is in between and doesn’t require an adult label.2

Please give it a once over and any help you can. I would like to finish it this year.3

Just Me4

Narrated by Arnold
Written by Geri Fitzsimmons
All rights to the author5

Shucks this computer gizmo is neat. All one has to do is push buttons and it prints what I want to say. Too bad I didn’t discover it sooner, cause you see I can’t talk—well not in a language you could recognize. And I do so want to talk about myself and how I learned to function in human society. This is my story.6

Chapter One7

‘An only child?’ When he said this, Pops must have been chewing too much bark. If not my siblings, then what the heck has been tumbling over me, shoving me aside, and trying to prevent me from getting at those pink nipples that give out that warm creamy stuff that fills my belly. Mums said we came from the same place, so I’m figuring we must be related. So how can Pops say, he can only hope I end up an only child? 8

My life is mostly predictable, I spend every day eating, sleeping, pooping and playing, then doing it all again.9

Pops isn’t around much and when he is I have to share his attentions with the others. One has a stub of hose between his legs so he shoots water like me; but he’s bigger and stronger and already can prance like Pops. The other four who make most of the noise around here just squat ta pee, and whereas my Pops calls me ‘Runt’ and my brother ‘Son’, he calls them all his ‘wee ladies’. 10

When Pritchard paused to look us over one morning, it was a break in routine and I reacted as rambunctious as my siblings.11

Pritchard, whose face I have never seen because it’s perched too far above his two pole-like legs and is hidden from below by an overly round extended middle that jiggles when he talks, was soon chastising Pops in a loud, belchy voice. “Ya didn’t do me proud with that runt. He’s black as coal with no redeeming markings. Too narrow in the chest and long in the hindquarters.” He harped on expounding on my defects. “Shoulda smothered it—can’t see anyone paying good money for the likes of it.” 12

Pops’ proud head drooped in shame. He growled low in his throat and nipped me when I came too close. This scolding by Pops, after being ridiculed by Pritchard, had me all squirmy inside and out—and I piddled yellow all over Pritchard’s brown shoe. 13

He growled louder than Pops and tossed his foot with me at the end. ‘YIP! YIP!’ I tumbled five minutes away and huddled there squealing for Mums. But my siblings in their terror had rushed to her and she didn’t notice me.14

I lay there whimpering and hunting a dozen pains with my tongue while I felt the oddest sensation. I was worthless.15

Mums had ignored my squeals. My siblings deserted me. The other dogs in the kennel slinked as far away from Pritchard and me as the fence would allow. Shoulda smothered it?16

‘Pops! ‘
Pops forced his muzzle into Pritchard’s fist so it opened. He jumped around and pranced off then danced back again. The man started to laugh…17

I was made to suffer more, for the incident was followed by Pops’ private tutoring session that quickly became a daily chore.18

Pops, whose given name is Dark Ranger the Fifth out of Dark Princess by something and so on and so on, continued providing me with special lectures. Dark Ranger has spent most of his life with humans, so he understands their language better than they do themselves. That’s how I know humans can say one thing but think the opposite. Pops has traveled the show circuits and captured all kinds of awards. So I don’t imagine it is so much in concern for me as his image that my education is important to him. More than likely it is, as my siblings tease, that he’d like to see me gone before the Breeders come to bid on this litter. Gone where? It’s a scary question that makes me tinkle when I think about it.19

“Big bucks.” Pritchard drools when he manhandles Son and the wee ladies.20

Big bucks, Pops tells us is what Breeders exchange for quality pups. Pritchard apparently contemplates no big bucks when he looks at me. At least he doesn’t manhandle me—by mutual agreement we never get close to each other.21

Then came this morning; an orange sun hung high in a blue sky, the cement in the run was warm and dry. I wanted to race and tumble with the others, but Pops tripped me. My legs went out from under me and I plopped on my belly with all four paws sticking out. Pops held me down with a firm right paw on my neck.22

‘You listen good,’ he said and swatted me across the head with his left paw. Darn that stung! Pops’ deep growl informed me this was important stuff. ‘I took a gander at them and there’s a chance these folks aren’t too smart. They’ll see me and your Mum and figure that’s you in a few more months. They’re buying a pet and by the time they realize you ain’t show quality, if you’ve done like I taught you, you’ll own them.’23

With a final swat, Pops left me to shake the dirt out of my coat, while he dashed off in answer to Pritchard’s call. Pops could knock the latch upward with his snoot and make it through before the gate slammed shut and the latch fell back into place. Of course none of us other fellows were tall enough and I never saw a bitch try.24

I heard Prichard’s voice coming from the back porch attached to the Big House. Only Pops got to go in the Big House. Mums was permanently condemned to the kennels like the four other bitches. I was glad that even if I was a runt, I wasn’t a female. Seemed to me these lasses were short on brains or something. Two of ‘em did little more than laze around swelling up like balloons filling with air. Lady Elisa stayed in her cubical most of the time washing the four pups hanging on her teats. Whenever she left them to empty one end or fill up the other, they squawked and squealed until she returned.25

Lady Lana just sulked when she wasn’t trying to investigate Lady Elisa’s pups and getting growled at or nipped for the effort. Wretched lass still had pups herself when my siblings and I first began our forays from out of our Mums’ den. We could barely keep all four of our legs moving in harmony or our bellies off the ground, when those brutes attacked. They tossed and tumbled us and chewed on our necks like they were worrying a bone. Mums had to rescue me more than I care to remember. Back then, her and Lady Lana constantly argued; they snapped so hard between growls I was surprised they didn’t draw blood. Then one afternoon the Breeders came. 26

The females went berserk. Mums, who rarely barked, howled and tried to conceal us under her belly. I thought for sure she was out to suffocate me. Peeking out from between Mum’s hind legs, I saw the creatures for the first time. Not as hideous as I expected, they were just a yapping bunch of humans trying to out talk each other. They didn’t sound as scary as Pritchard.27

Lady Lana tried to hide her pups but Pritchard drove her back into her den to pace and howl while he took her pups out to be manhandled—they never came back. 28

Pritchard’s tone was odd this morning. Not argumentative and nasty like it was the time he escorted the Breeders. His words flowed sweet like fresh milk, as he came across the yard with two strangers. “You folks came at an opportune time,” he said. “Course the breeders have all put in bids but to my way of thinking it would be a waste. Little fellow is his daddy’s clone.” Pritchard continued making me wonder whom he was describing. “Gonna look just like him. Already I can see Ranger’s personality peeking through. Playful and smart as they come, make you a terrific house dog.”29

“I was kind of looking to purchase a show dog. We have some friends involved in the circuit.” The man tried to sound knowledgeable.30

“No problem there.” Pritchard cut him short as he patted the fellow’s shoulder. “You take my word, I’ve been breeding top Shepards for thirty years. This one’s gonna be a winner. Look at his sire. And wait ‘til ya see the dame—Alaya is a picture perfect lady.”31

Pops was prancing ahead of them. He held his head high and proud. Ears sharply pointed, remained in military presentation. The slickness of his color-rich coat shown bright in the sunlight, and the slope from his shoulders downward emphasized his slightly shorter hindquarters.32

“He is a magnificent animal.”33

“I’ve showed you the ribbons and certificates.” Pritchard’s tone reeked with professionalism as he spoke down to the man. “Dark Ranger’s pups are always in high demand. I’d wear the poor fellow out if I accepted every request to have Ranger service a bitch.”34

“You rent him out?” Disgust filtered through the woman’s words and she glared at Pritchard while the man snickered.35

“Now Little Lady,” Prichard said, “Some words are harsh. Folks, like me, involved in protecting the quality of the breed, take extreme care so that we can honestly tell a person what he purchases will turn out a certain way. If you don’t have experience pups can fool ya.”36

The couple was at the fence. The guy watched me while the woman ogled my brother and sisters, who were putting on quite a show. Son pranced about like my Pops and the Wee Ladies attempted to mimic him. They were all tossing those perfect little heads where the ears already showed signs of raising, and wagged their bushy tails that were starting to curl. I did my best—but my ears only flopped lower and my rat-tail jutted straight out. Outclassed, I did the only thing I could think of and obeyed one of Pops’ instructions by dashing to the fence sticking my snout through and licking the Lady’s ankle.37

She giggled, dropped to her jean clad knees and reached in to pet me. Quickly I went down with all four paws braced and rolled on my back giving her full access to my belly. Wiggling, I lapped at her hand and bestowed tiny love nips on her fingers. “Oh, he’s such a little darling,” she cooed. I had her. She was mine.