Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Profits

Lucy had wanted a dog ever since she couldn't pronounce it, though her father refused to countenance the idea. "What about one of your mother's cats?" he asked, but the colony of Gillian's Egyptian Maus were mostly feral and generally resistant to the concept of pink bows tied to their tails. Thankfully, the scratches bled profusely , thus washing the wounds. "I know," he said, drying her tears with a tissue, "you can have Profits." He vanished into the attic for ten minutes and emerged with a moth-eaten old mongrel. "I loved this funny old dog for years," he said.

6 comments:

aims said...

And doesn't he still? Doesn't Harold's whole life boil down to profits??

Leatherdykeuk said...

Ha! True.

stephanie said...

Oh! Did she take it, or did she insist on a real one?

Very sweet gesture on Harold's part.

Leatherdykeuk said...

He won't get her a real one. Too many wolves about!

DJ Kirkby said...

Oh! Soooo sweet!

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thanks Deej :)