Saturday, April 16, 2005
BUDDY GOES TO JAIL
Buddy in two-step stool jail
BUDDY GOES TO JAIL
Copyright 2005 Janice Price
“Buddy, what are you doing under there?” Cyndi asks. “You look like you’re in jail.”
Buddy is sitting dejectedly underneath the two-step stool Jan put beside the bed for Jenny, the oldest cat, to use to climb onto the bed. Instead, Jenny climbs the blanket and the other animals use the steps.
“When Jan gets back home, she’s going to send me to jail. I’m in big trouble.”
“Again?” Cotton asks, curled comfortably on Jan’s pillow. “You’re always in trouble. What did you do this time?”
“I shredded a leash.”
Percy walks into the bedroom. “Another one? Jan’s going to have to open a collar and leash shop just to keep you and Merci outfitted.”
Crystal gets slowly to his feet, stretches lazily and walks across the bed to place his front paws on the top step and lean down to look Buddy in the face. “Have you ever considered not chewing up things? Then you wouldn’t get into trouble and get sent to jail.”
“I couldn’t help myself. Jan left early this morning without me and then she came home with the scent of other dogs on our leashes. She let other dogs walk her - and she used our leashes.”
“Is that what your tantrum was all about?” Merci asks. “I could have explained, if you had just asked me first.”
Cameron walks into the room and opens his mouth to speak. Buddy growls. “Don’t you dare mention the word dues now or I’ll personally kick you out of the Funny Farm Writing Club.”
“I was just going to ask if any of you know what happened to the new leash,” Cameron fibs. “It’s in pieces in the kitchen.”
“”Buddy,” Cyndi says, giving a one word explanation.
“You’re going to be in big trouble.”
“I already know that,” Buddy says, peering at Cameron through the opening between the two steps. “I lost my head.”
Cotton chuckles. “You were jealous. You want all the attention for yourself, but there are other animals living here and others outside this house. You can’t always be the center of attention.”
“Yeah, what would you do if Jan brought another dog home?”
Buddy glares at Percy. “She can’t. We don’t have any room for another dog. And besides,” he adds, “Jan can’t walk with another dog. She only has two hands, one for Merci’s leash and one for mine.”
Merci clears her throat. “Ahem. I thought you wanted to know why Jan allowed other dogs to walk her using our leashes.”
“There is no good explanation for abandoning us at home while she gives other dogs attention!” Buddy says adamantly.
“Buddy, Jan took our leashes with her to use to help walk homeless dogs at the animal shelter’s adoption day, in hopes the dogs might be adopted and go to new homes.”
“Homeless dogs? You mean, some dogs don’t have homes?”
“No, not all animals have a home,” Merci says. “And none of the dogs were adopted today, so they still don’t have homes. I know what it’s like to know I’m scheduled to die if someone doesn’t adopt me, because Jan rescued me out of the shelter. All the animals there aren’t so fortunate.”
Buddy hangs his head in shame. “I didn’t know that. Every dog and cat should have a home. I thought she didn’t love me any more and that’s why she allowed another dog to use my leash. I’m so sorry now, especially that none of the dogs have a home, but it’s too late. I already tore up my leash. I’ll go to jail for sure.”
“We’ll miss you,” Cameron says sadly.
Crystal walks down the steps as he adds, “It’s too bad you can’t put the leash back together again.”
Buddy perks up. “That’s a great idea! Then I can walk Jan with it again and Jan can let homeless dogs use it too.” Excitedly, he stands, raising the legs of the stool off the ground as his head touches the underside of the top stool step.
“Where are you going?” Cotton calls after him.
“To get the scotch tape and fix the leash.”
As Jenny wakens from a nap in her bed on the clothes dryer, she is startled to see the blue two-step stool dancing past her. Buddy’s tail is sticking out the back of it and Buddy’s voice is rising from beneath it. “Yippee! Jan still loves me, I’m going to help homeless animals, and I’m not going to jail!”
Secretary to the dysfunctional Funny Farm Writing Club