THE VET
International Dog of Mystery
Every time the human tries to tell me what to do, I remind it I once saved the world. Am Poodle. Am International dog of mystery. Respect.
A pigeon landed on the balcony. My poodle noggin whipped around in fixed attention. Wait, there’s something on its foot! “Bark! Bark! Bark! Person, let me out!” Human slid the patio door open. Pigeon brain just stood. Dumb bird.
“I heard that. Listen up, PooPoodle. Cat sent me from London. Take this note off my foot already. Who’s the dumb one now? Cat is expecting you first thing in the morning.” (((flap flap flap))) — flies off.
Who’s Cat? Like, of all the furballs in the Universe, I’m supposed to know who this dumb pigeon’s talking about. — “I can still hear you.” *poop-splat!*
Unravels note. Dr. Evil, lost marbles. What? Oh well. Human person won’t miss me. Too busy typing on the glowing thing at their desk for hours, days. I’ll jet over the pond to arrive first thing in the morning then jet home before dinner tomorrow.
