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Puppies and Rainbows: When Bowser Met Roark

03 Nov

(don’t bother counting. it’s another double drabble)

“Hang in there! It’ll be your turn, soon.”

Easy for her to say. Bowser watched the last of his siblings get carted away no more than 6 hours after they’d been put on display. How had he managed to have the rotten luck of being the only black dog in a litter full of brown and tan spotted puppies? He sat down in the too-big pen with a huff.

People came and went. They’d spend a moment or two by his cage and just as he was getting his hopes up, they’d walk on. Parents would shuffle their over-eager children towards more “acceptable” pets. He spent the night whimpering with the rest of the dogs in the puppy room.

The next morning a family appeared. Bowser was so bummed he barely twitched his tail as they approached. The parents and the girl walked by, but the young man lingered at Bowser’s cage. Bowser picked his head up and sauntered over. He nudged the boy’s hand and gave it a tentative lick.

“I like this one, Mom,” he said to his parents with a smile. “He’s like me.”

His parents exchanged a look that could only be called significant. Bowser began to believe.

 

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