by Mary Grace Mauneymmauney@mistermigs.com
The four little dogs stared in stunned silence at the shattered vase for a long moment. Then, they each erupted with an exclamation,
“Oh no!” “Oh gosh!” “Oh crud!” “Oh dear!”
Though each expression was a bit different, they all had the same meaning: the pets were in seriously big trouble!
“What…what do we tell Mom?” MiMee’s voice wobbled in her throat as if she were about to cry.
“We don’t tell her,” said Daisy.
“Daisy!” Sadie Lynn scolded.
“Oh, you want to tell her?”, Louey, said, “Fine, then you can tell her how it’s your fault---you’re the one who let go of the rope, just to be mean because I was winning!”
“You were not—“ Sadie Lynn started, then took a deep breath, reminding herself that didn’t matter now, “Alright. What do you all propose we do then?”
“Sweep it up and put it in the trash,” said Louey.
“We can’t do that,” Daisy pointed out, “She’ll see the pieces in the bin the moment she goes to throw something away. Let’s hide them.”
“She’s going to notice it’s missing, even if she doesn’t see the bits and pieces,” MiMee whimpered, “Do you think we could fix it?”
“I’ll go get some glue,” Sadie Lynn said, and trotted over to the drawer where craft supplies were kept. She returned with a bottle in her mouth, but, lacking thumbs, she had to chew the cap off rather than unscrewing it. This same lack impeded them in re-constructing the vase together, but eventually, they got it done. They did not, however, get it done well.
“It’s hideous,” Daisy lamented, “We’re doomed.”
The vase, once smooth and lovely, was now a strange, unsteady, ceramic patchwork that looked ready to collapse again at any moment. Glue oozed from in between the cracks, which were as obvious as the divides in cement sidewalk squares. It was just as obvious it had been broken as if they had left it on the floor.
“Things can’t get any worse,” bemoaned MiMee.
That was when they heard the sound of the front door opening.
“Hey everyone!”, called the voice of Mister Migs, “I’m home!”