~ Pru Tells of Pirates and The Socks Rebellion ~
The pack had an after-breakfast confab enjoying the cool morning outside. Pack Mom and Dad were taking showers and left us four to ourselves.
Keira, the red Golden, wanted Hazel to ask Dad why we hadn’t put on another of our one act pack-plays. It had been quite a while since our last one, and Dad had promised us something akin to The Three Musketeers (now Muzzle-teers).
Hazel thought that the whole idea was put on the back burner because Dad was hesitant about the sword aspect and probably didn’t want to make, or watch us lose, the plot line with cardboard swords in our mouths.
Pru, the newest member of our clan, pointed out that the name Musketeers denoted the use of muskets, and possibly Dad would be more inclined to use those as props.
I don’t think she could of said anything more surprising. First of all, as the youngest, how did she know what a musket was? Second, how did she know something even the two elders didn’t know.
Prudence must have seen the puzzled looks on Hazel’s and my face and went on to explain that in the pirate movie from last night, two-leggeds had a short bang-stick that made such a scary sound it would make other two-leggeds fall.
Hazel, understanding now what a musket was, started to say that maybe that’s not quite what a bang-stick does, but I gave Hazel the look to stop her.
Hazel and I have separately experienced hardships in our youth. Keira the Golden and Prudence, not as much. There is something about entering your elder season in life that the inclination is to spare the “youngins” hard and brutal facts about life. For good or ill, it’s my reflex now. Hazel, as the pack philosopher, forgets sometimes and tends to pontificate without thinking.
While Pru tried to recount her favorite parts of the pirate movie, I asked Hazel if she thought props were the main reason Dad hadn’t rounded us up for rehearsals. Hazel figured it was more about how busy everything got this spring. She also noted if we didn’t get things rolling soon, the preparations for WOOFstock would outweigh any appearance of the Pawful Players.
So Hazel and I tossed ideas back and forth. Maybe a pirate-type scene like Pru was going on about… or the St. Crispin thing Dad quotes on rare occasions… or try a repeat performance of past endeavors.
Nothing seemed to click, and Hazel and I fell silent in thought. Keira, having quite enough of Pru’s prattling, abruptly stood, yawn-stretched loudly, and simply said, “Ask Dad to do a Western.”
Without waiting for a reply, she sauntered into the house.
Pru followed her quickly. “Oh, and there was this weird bird that talked like two-leggeds, but was a bird, but it talked like two-leggeds. Did you know they could do that, Keira?”
Hazel and I looked at each other. Out of the mouth of babes, twice in one day. A western. Why didn’t we think of that? Proper backdrop, high-desert climate. We already have a sheriff and a deputy in the pack. Not to mention Hazel and I having been around for a number of years and have seen a fair amount of westerns on the scentless screen. Lots of material to draw from.
I watched Hazel rise to her feet and tried to get a read on her response to the idea. She knew what I was thinking and let me know timing was key as we both went back into the house.
Hazel is the spokesdog for the pack when there’s complicated issues to discuss. She’s known Dad the longest and somehow manages sell him on ideas easier than the rest of us could. Come to think of it, Mom has the same knack when it comes to Dad.
Inside, Dad and Mom were getting ready to go somewhere while Keira and Pru interrupted their progress. Keira wandered off with Mom’s socks and paraded around the living room while Pru did her best to get Keira to share her prize.
When Mom and Dad tried to cajole Keira into surrendering her purloined footwear, Pru was convinced Dad and Mom were coming to make Keira share on her behalf and thought it proper to assist them.
Hazel and I watched from the couch.
“Aren’t you going to intervene, Sheriff?” Hazel asked, half serious.
“There’s a Deputy on the scene already,” I replied, knowing full well that the Deputy was the problem at the moment.
When the red Golden’s jaws finally relented and released the aforementioned (and now soggy) socks, Pru leapt over Keira and with a heartfelt, “Thanx, Mom!” and snatched the socks from a startled Pack-Mom’s hand. All four of the participants headed down the hall with a celebratory Pru in the lead.
“Hazel, I don’t think now would be a good time to bring up our idea.”
I looked over at Hazel for her reply, but suddenly Pru reappeared running full you-can’t-catch-me speed with a bath towel dragging along her side and out the patio door she went (with original participants following).
“Play acting can wait for now, Tuck. I think you’ve got real life to deal with at the moment, Sheriff.”
~ Tucker Oso ~
