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Mookie's DNA

Mookie stuck his nose around the corner of the open door and sniffed feverishly. A glistening string of drool dangled from the corner of his mouth as an enticing scent danced at the tip of his nose. A quizzical look passed through the dog's eyes as they focussed on some distant point beyond the garden wall. Gerry, his bleary-eyed owner, stood shivering at the open door as a cool draft wafted up his nightshirt. Gerry rubbed at the overgrowth of facial hair and had a fleeting sense of relief that it was Saturday. Once Mookie had done his business, he would return to the rumpled folds he called his bed. As the dog continued to stand there, his body alert, Gerry decided that a persuasive nudge with his foot would send Mookie on his way. With one foot securely pressed against the rear end, Gerry attempted to push the dog out the door. Mookie's front legs went stiff and suddenly his backside plopped stubbornly onto the floor. The dog's drool waved and dangled, and in sympathy with its owner, resisted any forward motion. With mounting frustration Gerry lifted his foot once again, gave a mighty shove to Mookie's backside. In that same instant Gerry left the ground. He lurched forward, glanced off the mudroom wall, knocked Mookie sideways, and thereby displaced the long strand of slobber. Up in the air the moist menace flew, and then, by the hand of gravity, wobbled its way towards Gerry's upturned face.

Story by:

Rosalind Forster

24 July 2012