The Terrible Two’s

“You smell terrible. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you after I bathe Roger and I take a shower. I’m beat right now….”

“You can’t come in. The storm knocked out the electric so you can’t take a shower. There are horse flies buzzing around you.”

“Come on, Karen. It’s starting to rain….”

“It’ll wash some of that stink off you. I’m serious, Diane, you can’t come in.”

“I’m dying of thirst…great, here comes the downpour.”

Diane and her dog, Roger, stood outside in the pouring rain. Diane had done what she could to clean them both in the lab’s emergency shower, but without soap or a towel, it was a paltry cleanup. The worse part was getting into Diane’s new car sopping wet and covered in green manure, along with a couple dozen horse flies and a very wet and very green golden retriever.

The rain finally stopped and Karen passed food and drink to her very drenched roommate through the slightly open screen door. She gave the two-year old golden retriever a biscuit. Finally, nourished and her thirst quenched, Diane related to Karen the whole miserable story while they waited for the electricity to be restored.

It was early morning and only Diane and Al, her advisor, were at the lab along with Roger. Al had just made the statement that some day Roger would learn to open the heavy, back doors when they heard the doors open and close. Al and Diane darted out the doors and they spotted Roger heading first for the cows–the department’s buildings were located smack dab in the middle of the Agricultural College complex.

All the gates to the pastures were locked. They climbed over and crawled under fences and ran through piles of horse and cow manure–Diane in her flip-flops–the manure squishing between her toes. Roger was rolling around in fresh, green, horse manure, right beside a couple of horses. When finally they had their hands on Roger, Al was forced to carry the dog back through the pastures–under and over fences: they had forgotten Roger’s leash. Al would throw Roger over a fence to Diane and she would pathetically catch the 80 lb. dog in a mutual tumble–typically into more manure. Showering herself and the dog back at the lab was fruitless. The attempt had added insult to in injury–plugging the floor drain leaving Diane to mop up.

Soon after the telling the electricity came on. Diane ordered Roger to get inside but he knew a bath was in store for him and charged towards the neighbor’s chickens. He changed course and wiggled head-first into a large drainage pipe under the road. With his head and shoulders in the pipe, Roger began whimpering: he was stuck.

“Karen, would you go get the Crisco and some old towels, please? The jerk has done this before….”

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Diane’s Vet told her that golden retrievers get a brain when they’re about five years old–if their owners let them live that long…three more years to go!

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Flash Fiction Challenge #44

Prompt:  “You smell terrible.  What happened?”
Word Count:  500
Photo credit featured photo:  Heather E.
Photo credits clockwise:  tumblr.com, mamieyoung.com, fanpop.com

Many thanks to awesome Ms Thain for hosting Flash Fiction Challenge at Thain in Vain

Funny Golden Retriever Puppies: