#50 PUPPY - LILLY
“What do you see here, Scooter?”
“I didn’t do that.”
“No, you didn’t. You aren’t in trouble. What is it you see?”
“Lilly.”
“Lilly? Oh, no, not what do you smell. Turn off your nose and tell me what you see?”
“I see stuff like that thing you and Dad lose a lot.”
“It’s called a remote.”
“That’s Lilly’s remote? I smell Lilly.”
“That’s because your friend, Lilly, disassembled this one.”
“She did a good job; her scent is on every piece.”
“Scooter, this is the second TV remote Lilly has destroyed.”
“Disassembled.”
“Right, disassembled.”
“She’s a Shorty Jack, Mom,” said Scooter. “Not a standard Jack, not Parsons, not any of those ordinary terrier types. Her ancestors are British. Why would the Queen choose Corgis when she could have a Shorty Jack? Lilly’s got a broken coat, and if that’s not gorgeous…”
“Scooter, this is the second remote Lilly has destr . . . disassembled.”
“Blisteringly intelligent,” says Scooter. “I’m smart. She may be smarter. Maybe.”
“She’s eaten the insoles of her mom’s shoes.”
“She’s very young. And, remember, I’ve chewed up your socks.”
“Two insoles, Scooter.” He wasn’t finished.
“She can’t jump very well. Her legs are half the length of mine, so she’s limited. Her parents should know where to put a remote. Up. And shoes. Up. And fountain pen caps. And books. And . . .”
“And the macerated felt doggie ear toys?”
“How many Lamb Chops did I go through before I stopped tearing up toys?”
“You’ve stopped tearing up toys?”
“Now? Only to extract offensive squeakers,” he reminds me.
“Scooter, what about the fountain pen caps she’s chewed up? Two of them.”
“Mom, you’ve read about Jack Russell Terriers, ‘Focused on prey, sharp, cunning little minds.’”
“You like that.”
“I’m drawn to smart.”
“Lilly ate half a paperback book.”
“Her dad’s scent all over it, right? He was gone, right? In his absence, she got his scent as close to her heart as she could. This is love, mom.”
“You’ve noticed.”
“Who can’t notice?”
“I think you’re in love, Scooter.”
“A beauty,” says Scooter who, like Cyrano, looks up to her balcony in hopes of a glimpse as he walks by on the sidewalk.
“You’re right, she’s a beauty.”
