Katya Graymalkin here.
Mom goes out without me all the time, which is sort of okay. I don’t want to go out anywhere, but I don’t want MOM to go out anywhere, either. But, whether I like it or not, she goes out.
The other day, she took Granny to a doctor and, when she got out of the car, she saw this:
What do you think that is? If you read the title of this post, you know what it is. It’s a miniature Schnauzer. Her owner was with her, and he said her name is Lily. Mom said Lily was so sweet and friendly! Mom came home with tiny little pawprints on her pants legs, but she said she didn’t care.
Here is a picture of Lily near Mom’s feet, so you can see how tiny Lily is; I think she’s smaller than I am! Mom said Lily was lively, but she didn’t bark. Meanwhile, Lily’s brother and sister, in the truck nearby, were barking their brains out.
Mom said she would have brought Lily home, if she could have. I don’t think that would have been a good idea. I would like it that she didn’t bark, and I would like it that she was smaller than I am, but I wouldn’t like it that she’s lively and playful, or that Mom would pay attention to her when she ought to be paying all her attention to me!
I think Mom and my friend, Jane, used to have a Schnauzer. He was some kind of terrier, anyway. His name was Gus. I’ll bet Jane has lots of stories even Mom doesn’t know about Gus.
Lily’s daddy showed Mom the other dogs, who barked and jumped and scared Mom, even though they’re so little. That’s Lily in her daddy’s hand, her brother under the daddy’s other hand, and a black and tan sister back between them.
If you want to know more about Schnauzers, go to the American Kennel Club’s Miniature Schnauzer page. Their picture isn’t one quarter as cute as Lily, I have to say. If you don’t have a cat and want to rescue a miniature Schnauzer, go to this rescue page and maybe you can give one a forever home. (I hope my mom isn’t reading this!)
A WRITING PROMPT FOR ANIMALS: Your mom or dad brings home a rescued animal.
KG
Jane
February 22, 2014 at 9:02amHello, Katya.
you are right about Gus. A. You wouldn’t like him: He was big AND frisky. B. I have more stories.
When Gus ruled us, we lived three houses from the school. Gus’ nominal dog-buddy (my brother Bruce) heard him barking one day (Bruce was at school), and my bro immediately told his teacher that Gus was calling for him and he had to go see about him. And the charmed lad walked straight out of the classroom to go check on Gus. (Who was sitting on top of his doghouse hollering, “Bruuce! Bruuce!) Or so Bruce would have one believe.
Anyway, a clean escape was had. Gus got what he wanted (Bruce), and I believe bro returned to class, crisis averted. That boy could get away with anything. Self-assurance goes very very far.
Marian Allen
February 22, 2014 at 10:28amGus was a Barbievore, wasn’t he?
Jane
February 23, 2014 at 10:23amOh my yes.
He was particularly hard on Hoss Cartwright.
His specialty was snatching them up and preventing one from retrieving them from his iron-jawed grip.
Except for the mannequin-shaped clay figurine some one of us made. When he snatched that one up, he treated it like royaty. Barely a tooth-peck was left behind.
Marian Allen
February 23, 2014 at 1:59pmI can still hear the blood-curdling growl from under the bed if he even suspected somebody was coming after his latest victim.
Jane
February 24, 2014 at 10:01amAnd then there was the mighty snapping of the teeth sound from under the bed. Not a chance of any fingers trying to creep under that bed after HIS toys!
Marian Allen
February 24, 2014 at 10:03amOh, lord, no! Gus seriously terrified me. Worse than Tootsie.