A Brief Chat

It's early. I sip my coffee sitting on the old flowered divan and gaze out at the perimeter. All is quiet. "No thanks to you," I mutter at my black dog, mostly Labrador. Frederick (pronounced Froderick) flicks his eyes towards me, wrinkling his brow, but otherwise remains comfortably curled on the khaki throw-rug.

"You know," I begin easily, " It probably wouldn't cost that much to bribe some lowly bureaucrat at the city Dog Registry. They can't be paid that much, and I am sure they have families to provide for. After all, Dog Registry bureaucrats can't grow on trees; they must reproduce and multiply somehow, and the traditional family, expensive as it may be, is the most likely template."

I realize I may be losing Frederick (pronounced Froderick) with my interesting, but digressive, extemporaneous disquisition. I catch him suddenly with the intensity of my gaze. "A $25.00 bribe. Maybe $30.00, but I don't think much more. And certain official government certified Dog Registry papers could be changed, from 'Inside Dog' to 'Outside Dog.'"

With an unexpressed "urp?" Frederick's large head lifts abruptly to look at the thermometer hanging outside the window. It is the old-fashioned mercury type, rusted by the years. 10 degrees, Fahrenheit, it silently attests.

Ah, I have his attention.

Posted by: Longfellow via email.