Story by Zoey Weaver | Image by Iris Wanders
The Girl was worried. There was a hole under the fence. Again. Pappy’s brow wrinkled when he saw it and the ends of his moustache curled down in a frown. The Girl knew that meant no good. Last time there was a hole Pappy’s moustache had curved down as he said, “No more dessert fer pups who dig ’oles under fences!”
The Girl’s feet led her to the fence. The hole gaped at her. A limp, trampled petunia lay nearby. She turned away. The yard was empty except for red Mamma Dog snooping in the corner. No puppies. She went to bed that night with a heavy heart.
Next morning there they were, happy as five larks. Only the Poky Little Puppy hung back. Another pup stuck its tongue in her face. She ignored it and went to the Poky Little Puppy. Her favourite.
“Please!” she breathed into the silky ear. “Dinna ye dig holes under th’ fence! I couldn’t bear to loose ye! No more shortcake crumbs, rice pudding leftovers, nor chocolate custard dishes to lick until ye stop digging holes!”
But words could not convey the message. One quick swipe of the little tongue and the Poky Pup was off. The Girl turned away. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Pappy’s. “Clean up after yer pups. No leftovers for them pups ’tll they stop.” The Girl nodded meekly and stumbled off. She quickly filled in the hole. Later Pappy stopped her. “Ye filled in th’ hole fer sure?” The Girl nodded. “Then come with me an’ yer ma to town.” A light sparkled in the Girl’s eyes. “Yesir!”
So they left. It was Poky who saw the open screen door. He trotted into the forbidden area curiously. The others followed. They padded into the kitchen. Ahha! Poky smelled the strawberry shortcake the Girl’s mother had baked that morning. It was sitting on the kitchen table. It was a small matter to get onto the table, and in minutes, both pans of the delicious strawberry shortcake were gone. The pups wandered outside. Poky went to the fence and started digging. It was hard work with a stomach full of strawberry shortcake. The other pups watched in the shade. Finally the Poky Little Puppy deemed the hole big enough. He started to squeeze through, but it was too tight! He pulled. He tried to back up. The other puppies watched. Poky was getting frantic. But he was stuck.
The Poky Little Puppy stayed there the whole afternoon. The sun beat down on his head. His stomach hurt. His throat burned with thirst. Finally he fell asleep.
Much later Poky felt gentle hands on his back. The Girl scooped him up in her arms. “Oh, ye little goose! Ye was ’ungry for shortcake. Ma’s angry, but she’ll git over it. I forgive ye. I reckon ye won’t dig under that fence again.” And the Poky Little Puppy and his siblings never did.