Cool McCool's Garage

Frankie went out the door, down the steps and across the short distance to Milo’s house, the air cold and crisp.  Milo, hearing her coming across the walk, met her at the back door of his place.  He stopped mid stride and stared.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“What?  What do you mean? ”

“I mean, what happened?  Your hair, for one, and what is that ridiculous thing you have on?”

“Well”, she replied, surprised by the tone of his question, “Brian cut my hair, and this is my coat.  What’s the matter, don’t  you like it?”

“CUT YOUR HAIR?”, he almost spit the words out.  “You let him cut your hair?  In the middle of winter?  What’s the matter with you, anyway?   It’s cold out, he cuts off all your fur, and then puts that goofy looking thing on your back?  That’s just wrong.  I’d NEVER let that happen.  You should have done something.”

“Done something,”, she said, “what would I do?  He sets me up on the counter, gets out the clippers and cuts off my fur, there’s nothing much I could do.  What would YOU have done?” 

“I’d have given him the tooth and claw routine,” Milo said, “You know, sink my teeth into his hand, flop over on my side and claw like hell with all four paws.  Once my back feet get going, I don’t think he’d hang on to any “clippers”, whatever they are, for long!”

Frankie sniffed and ate a piece of kibble he’d knocked out of his food dish on the window ledge above. 

“That’s easy for you to say,”, she sniffed,”… you weren’t there, and besides, he clipped my toenails anyway.  I don’t think they’d do much.”

“CLIPPED YOUR TOENAILS?”, Milo shrieked, “Why didn’t you unsheath the back ones and let him have it while he tried to clip the fronts?  Good God Dog, that’s just wrong.  How are you gonna catch birds and stuff?”

Frankie turned around a stared at Milo, incredulously. “I don’t catch birds, I’m a dog, and besides, my nails aren’t sheathed, they just hang out there, all the time.  I’m inside all the time anyway.  I haven’t seen YOU catching any birds either, claws or not.” 

She turned and continued eating his kibble.  Milo jumped up onto the roof of his house, and considered this for a moment.

“Well, maybe I haven’t yet, but I will,”, he said, “and I DID catch a mouse the other day, you sniffed around the head I left under the deck.  It takes claws and teeth for that, not some coat and a manicure.

Milo reached out and snagged the back of Frankies coat, gave it a tug, and snorted.  Frankie had forgotten all about the entire incident by now, and continued to sniff and snort in the snow on the deck for the last bits of cat food. 

Unable to get any more argument, or any play from the old dog, Milo hopped up on top  of the grill.

“Yup.  Teeth and toenails, that’s what he’d have gotten trying to pull that on me.” 

He curled up and watched Frankie sniffing single-mindedly  in the snow, shaking his head at the dogs seeming lack of self-determination,  thoughtfully working his claws in and out on the grill cover.