“Micah! Deedee! Come!” Jennifer stood on the back patio of her suburban home, hands on her hips. She was met with silence, and she looked to either side to see if the little legs were running from around the corner. Nothing.
“Micah! Deedee! Dinner! Treats!” Even these enticements didn’t bring the little dachshunds running. Next door, a rustle of the curtain indicated old Mrs. Woodward was up to her usual busybodying.
Jennifer took a step into the yard, careful not to tread on the crusty old turds the she and Eric still argued about who should clean up. She moved carefully through the minefield, every other step bringing a different degree of fossilization, until she reached the fence. The small hole Micah and Deedee were constantly digging under the fence was freshly unearthed.
Peeking over it, she looked in Mrs. Woodward’s backyard. She didn’t see any signs of her little weiner dogs over there, so began her slow return to the safe haven of the patio steps. The dogs were probably just playing a game somewhere, she thought to herself. They’ll be back when they get hungry.
Next door, Mrs. Woodward set two plates of steak and potatoes on the floor. Micah and Deedee pounced on these, quickly licking the plates clean. When they started scratching at the door to be let out, though, Mrs. Woodward said, “No, my little kiddies, this is your new home, away from that mean old hag who leaves you out all day.”
It was some weeks later that Jennifer, whether drawn by the smell of Mrs. Woodward or the crazed barking emanating from her house, knocked on the door and finally found her prized little fur-babies, She escorted them home, and the next day social services removed the elderly woman from her heavily soiled house.