Dogs--Home Alone

Word count: 300



         I’d been listening to my portable CD player as I stamped some bill envelopes.  I’d grabbed a jar of peanut butter to make myself a sandwich when I decided the bills needed to be mailed.  I’d set the player and headset, along with a jar on the table. 

         I should have put them on the counter.  But I didn’t.  I looked at my fox terriers.  They were holding each other by a back leg and spinning each other around.  Surely I could run the mail out to the box without them destroying anything.

         I took the mail and headed towards the door. I heard them crash into the other side of the door before I’d shut the screen.  I put the bills in the mailbox and turned to go back, when my neighbor called to me.

         “Hi, how are you?”

         “Just fine.”  I said, “How are you all?”

         “Well…” She began, and I knew I’d made a mistake.  “I’ve been all right, but Sam hasn’t been feeling very good.  He says he pulled a muscle, but I think it’s arthritis.”

         I put up a hand, “I’m sorry, but I left some soup on the stove.”  I lied, and added, “I hope Sam feels better soon.” I ran back to the house and pushed the inner door open, expecting to find the dogs there. 

         They weren’t.  I called, and still nothing.  Then I noticed the headset to the CD player was gone.

         “Robbie…” I found the headset—or, at least, what was left of it, in the dining room.  “Robert James!”  I yelled.

         A furry little head peered around a corner—a half-chewed jar lid in his mouth.

         “Agatha Lynne!”

She paused her licking just long enough to stare at me innocently over the edge of the jar, before she continued.