The Poofie Problem

Little dogs have big secrets

Written as a response to Monday Mash-Up #10, found here. Many thanks to Jonathon Sawyer for providing the prompt!

What thoughts could be behind those beady little eyes?

It must be nice living with a complete lack of higher thinking. No worries or obligations, just spending your days sleeping, eating, and shitting in the backyard. That’s what I thought as I sat in the park, looking at my dog.

He glances up at me, sensing my jealousy. Taunting me with that dopey little grin on his face, tiny pink tongue waggling at me.

Of course you’d be smiling, I think to myself, I take care of everything. What more could you want?

“I could tell you what he wants.”

An old woman had snuck up beside me. She wore a tie-dye skirt and a jean jacket. Her hair was long under a beaded headband, and it disappeared behind her back in a braid.

“What who wants?” I ask, perplexed.

“Poofie.” She nods to my pomeranian. “You might be surprised.”

I laugh.

“You’re a mind reader?”

“More of a fortune teller, really.” She pulls out a small rectangular package with a camel on it. “I know exactly what to say and when to say it. I tell people what they need to hear.”

She tugs a cigarette from the package with her lips.

“What needs to be said but can’t. Messages from the dead, signs from the future, stuff like that.”

I laugh again.

“So I need to hear what Poofie wants?”

She nods and pulls the unlit camel from her mouth, holding it between two fingers.

“For twenty bucks, I’ll tell you.”

Of course she wanted money.

And she thought I was stupid enough to give it her. There’s no way I would ever fall for a scam like that. I chuckle to myself again, astounded by the audacity.

But then I look at Poofie’s face. Into his soul.

His brainless little smile is gone. The blank, vapid eyes have a determination I have never witnessed before in my life. My laughter evaporates instantly.

Poofie did want something. He wanted to tell me.

I reach for my wallet and look inside. I had exactly twenty dollars. I shakily hand it over to the old woman, wondering what kind of information my miniscule companion could have to share. After all the years we’ve spent together, what would he want to say?

“Poofie needs to go to Vegas.”

It doesn’t register at first. I stammer for clarification.

“He wants-”

“-needs-”

“-to go to Vegas?”

She nods and puts the cigarette back between her lips.

“And you need to take him.”

Vegas was hundreds of miles away. My old beetle wasn’t up for a drive like that, how could Poofie even understand a concept like a Vegas road trip?

I had clearly been scammed by this old con artist.

I ask the woman if there was anything else she could do for me.

“I do know a magic trick.”

I sit back and say nothing, hoping to get something worthwhile for my money.

“Dancing flame,

Burning light,

Make us all,

Feel warm tonight.

Smokey friend,

Glowing kiss,

Your friendly flicker,

We’ll surely miss.

Before you go,

May you might,

The tip of my camel,

Please ignite.”

With a fwick of her lighter, she lights the end of her cigarette, leaning back with a smug little smile at her own clever trick.

“That one was for free.”

And with that she scoots out of the park and into the lot, climbing into an ancient purple panel van before pulling away and disappearing into the night.

I went home and was relaxing with Poofie, watching TV late at night, when an ad came up.

It showed a glimmering city that never sleeps. An oasis of pleasure in the middle of the desert. The finest dining, the best shopping, lots of extravagant shows and pretty people. A chance to risk it all and win big. All of this and more could be found in- where else- Las Vegas.

I look over and see Poofie transfixed by the advertisement. He begins to whine as clips of card games flash across the screen. I stare at my dog.

“Vegas?” I say tentatively.

Poofie glances at me and barks rapidly.

I may not be a fortune teller, but I know a yes when I see one.

I call my friend Bruce and ask him if he can come over tomorrow and take a look at the beetle. He says that he is hosting his nephew’s birthday party, but he can come by before it starts and check out the bug. I tell him it would be much appreciated, then I hang up the phone and begin to pack

Bruce arrives the next day carrying a massive box.

“Just had to pick up the cake before I came over.” He squeezes through and places the cake on the table.

We go out to inspect the bug, and Bruce is quick to point out any small problem he sees. He pops the hood to get a closer look at the engine. After a few hours of tinkering, the beetle is sounding better than ever, and Bruce deems it road trip worthy.

I thank Bruce for his hard work as we go back inside, and tell him that I owe him for the help-

“And the cake.”

Poofie has been busy while we were occupied, and managed to get onto the table and into the box containing the treasured dessert. The entire cake has been consumed by my tiny dog. Poofie lies unresponsive in what little remains of the dessert, snoring.

I issue my apologies to Bruce and give him some extra money to cover for the mishap with the cake. Afterwards, I load my luggage and my lethargic dog into the beetle and drive off into the sunset, eager to see what adventures await me and Poofie in the city of sin.

Time to tally up the points!
(2 pts) Prompt #1 - Poofie
(1 pt) Volkswagen Beetle
(1 pt) Needlessly Long Incantation
(1 pt) A Camel (cigarette)
(1 pt) A Braid of Hair
(2 pts) Something Large Put Into Something Small (cake into Poofie)
(5 pts) Onomatopoeia (fwick)
(1 pt) Tally BoxTotal: 14 Points