“This is your dog?” the police officer at the door asked. It was her dog and that scared the bejeezus out of her.
She had been home the entire afternoon folding laundry, feeding the new baby, cooking that evening’s casserole and not once had she noticed that the lovable Labrador wasn’t clumsily sauntering about the house as he usually did.
The lack of sleep seemed to be finally catching up on her and she wasn’t liking it. Ever since her second child had arrived she and her hubby had gotten by on a maximum of three hours rest a night. Baby cramps, the new-born’s constant craving for her mother’s teat and her older sister’s clingy need for attention didn’t leave much room to catch a breath. But she never thought things would get so bad that she’d lose track of the family pet.
How the dog had gotten out was anyone’s guess. They had contemplated taking the baby for a walk in the morning but had abandoned that plan at the last minute. Had the Labrador slipped passed them through the half-open front door during that moment of indecision? Surely she would have felt his lumbering body against her leg? Or his bullwhipping tail?
She felt as if she’d not only let down the dog but also herself. And she wasn’t sure if she would cope better if the kids got older. Surely there’d be other distractions like driving them to music lessons or making sure they weren’t skyping with the neighbour’s no-good boy.
So, as the police officer repeated the question and she stared into her dog’s faithful eyes, she went in full-on denial, answered the cop they must have gotten the wrong owner and closed the front door in the comforting knowledge this would not happen again.
Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.