not quite left out


“No. Gigi does not get ‘people food’. She overindulged, or was overindulged a few years ago, got very sick. Nearly died of pancreatitis.”

She was supposed to have been a teacup, and Nene had paid a price she would only describe as “Jack Can Never Find Out.” Failing but one expectation Gigi had grown to a mini, the size of a small house cat, adorable, cuddly and willing to attack dogs one hundred times her weight when they invaded her territory. Of the sixteen dinner guests only a couple were unfamiliar with the dog’s gastric history. The kids all knew. Nene’s mother G-ma knew. The newbies were duly apprised and the buffet commenced with seating for all, at two tables, in the dining room.

“I don’t think you can get through this way Maxine. It’s so crowded I can’t even move my chair. I can take your plate and you can go around the other way.”

My offer ended G-ma’s initial bid for the least accessible seat in the room, and she retreated, dinner in hand, to the kitchen. A slight panic swept through the mostly seated company. Theories pertaining to G-ma’s departure were rapidly traded, including my allowance that I may have offended her. Nene ended it quickly, leaping into the kitchen and accompanying G-ma back. All rose on the far side of the table to allow passage, and full seating was graciously achieved.

Nene opened the dinner conversation with:

“Does anybody here like Donald Trump?”

Her brother’s hand began a sheepish rise then fell limp at the immediate crescendo of contempt.

“I know, you’re so hungry aren’t you sweetie?”

Gigi had begun to make the rounds, stopping before or beside each person, sometimes lifting paw to human leg. Peering earnestly into the eyes of every potential benefactor.

“No treats for you, doglet!”

” I swear this is the tenth time she’s been here giving me that look! She’s such a little cutie she’s hard to refuse!”

On it went for an hour, the poor dog occasionally even being scooped up into a lap, closer to the food. She was mild mannered through it all and, in hindsight, seemed not all that interested in the food once it was at eye level. She had failed to be persuasive, failed to convince, and in the end her desire became need.

“Oh my gosh! Gigi just peed on my foot!”

“She wouldn’t do that G-ma!”

“When was she last out?”


3 responses to this post.

  1. A good story but with rather too many adjectives – some dubious (adorable, cuddly) to this misanthropic Englishman. As in, (yeah it’s an adverb; same difference) “ended it quickly, leaping into”; since “leaping” makes “quickly” redundant. More obviously “initial bid” and “slight panic” both qualifiers possibly true but unnecessary.

    The ending could be sharper. “Failed to be persuasive” and “failed to convince” are almost synonymous. More seriously “desire” could at that point still mean “hunger”.
    Perhaps replace “desire became need” with “the curtain went up” or “all became clear”.

    Super-technical point: “poor” as in “poor dog” is an example of “author’s voice”. Rather complex; hope you can figure it out.

    Gigi is missing from para starting “I don’t think…” to para ending with “… you sweetie.” Some reference in the largest para – it could be entirely neutral – would help, since Gigi is the hero.

    A very aggressive question by Nene – not that I’m complaining. How about an unexpected “Yes” with Gigi later peeing on the responder’s foot. Better still make him a Brit, assuming you’ve been known to hand out invites to such outsiders. Nice circularity there.


    • Thanks Robbie….this was a real quickie…maybe a half hour spent…. I woke up in the night realizing I could have set it up to have a single character portray the story through dialog, but of course then it would either be a conversational fragment or I’d have to write a MUCH longer story. I will only defend one point. “Failed to be persuasive” and “failed to convince” ARE synonymous, but I may have been trying to convey a sort of desperate “dog think” at that moment, and more importantly I intended “desire ” to remain “hunger” at that point, hoping for a slam dunk finish. I knew I hadn’t achieved that but hit post anyway, knowing too that bits of dialog were thrown in almost at random (the Trump question….yes it WAS very aggressive). I’ll experiment with this one. I thought the picture of the Yorkie pretty much covered my brit duties….in fact I doubt I’d have written the story had I not found the pic. Happy New Year dude!


    • Oh and sorry…accidentally trashed this first effort along with your valued comment. Now restored.


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