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Animals for Humans Agency


Mulk

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So, a few weeks back I kinda got this idea stuck in my head - how would it work, if an animal was truly self-aware enough both to understand exactly what happened when a human saved it and able to reciprocate, all while we still think they are dumb animals?  I batted it around in my head a few times. And then late last week I just started writing and out popped this little bit of fiction. Hope you enjoy!

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ANIMALS FOR HUMANS AGENCY

Name’s Ugly. It’s short for UglyDog, cause that seems to be all anyone ever calls me.  And you know, I’m not much to look at, but I’m also not a cat, so hell no to all that contortionist self cleansing complete with vomitory practice.  I bathe when it rains as a dog should.  Anyway.  I get called feral or wild and kids scream and run away from me.  Dead useful that.  See, I have a life calling.  Ages ago, must have been a whole year, this human saw this massive huge coyote chasing me and drove it off.  I promised whatever he needed…but being a big dumb human he didn’t understand a word of it, just kept trying to push me off.  Maybe he thought I wanted his burger, I dunno…

So what’s a dog supposed to do when you’ve promised service to a human and they don’t get it or don’t want it?

Why, you go to the Animals for Humans Agency, that’s what you do.

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I trotted through the archway to see an octopus octopiing several phones…and just in time to see it throw down all of them at once and yell at no one and everyone “WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK BECAUSE I’M AN OCTOPUS I HAVE 8 MOUTHS AND 8 BRAINS TO KEEP UP WITH 8 CONVERSATIONS?!  WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME ON THE CALL LINES” and then storm out.

There was a tortoise, three armadillos, two cats and a few others hanging around.  My mouth was open but they all ignored it.  No one apparently even noticed we had an octopus.  This isn’t exactly an ocean habitat.  The tortoise shrugged at me glacially and murmured “Happens every few days or so, you get used to it” before it went back to trimming the plans. Eating the plants I mean.  Must be nice to have your whole job to be eating prettily.

An overworked border collie came out and took my name and scent and I sat down in an unoccupied corner to scratch and wait. And scratch.

And scratch.

Seriously. What else am I gonna do?  Cross species agencies are hell on dogs who want to chase a cat for fun.  Or, dog forbid, you try to protect anyone from a squirrel.  Evil, shifty, creepy little invasive ninja spies.  I caught one once.  Best day of my life.

That bird pooped on me last week.  I might follow it when it leaves…

“Mr. Dog, sir?”

“Yes?”

“This way please.”

The speaker was a cat.  One of those cats who could eat a small dog.  Probably could eat me if she wanted.  I’d never seen paws that big before.  Or a coat so shiny.  I had to kinda shield my eyes.  She had fangs I’d have admired on a dog, but I kept thinking how it would feel if she decided she was hungry.  I followed of course. 

“You don’t need my scent too?”

“Trust me, everyone had your scent already.”

That was a little much from a jumped up prancing prim puss.  I wanted to say something clever.  For once, I kept my yap shut.  Priorities, right? Like having an intact jugular.  I like not bleeding out.

“Wait here, your case worker will be with you shortly.”

I shrugged and busied myself with sniffing all the corners, checking for scents, and for a moment I didn’t realize the door had shut.  I turned around and saw no one.  And then I saw a slug descending from the ceiling on a shimmering thread and that was so weird I kinda lost my head for a moment.  Turns out it was in a custom spiderthread cradle, being lowered by on obsequious and servile orb spider.  As the slug reached the table, the spider scuttled down, fussing over the slug. “Are you sure you’re okay sir, I don’t think I wobbled you much Mr. Worble but I’m trying…” and it all kinda faded into a muddle of run on sentences. 

The slug sighed and looked up at me in a way that I swore was a threat if I told anyone about this.

“I’m Worble. Not Mr. Worble. Just Worble. Got it?”

“Uh.  Right you are Worble.  Who are you?”

“I’m sure they told you your case worker was coming?”

“My case worker is a slug?”

“Ah. One of those.

“Those what?”  I was getting really confused. “I really didn’t know slugs could do this.”

“Those that think because slugs are slow and ooze and all that, that we are useless.  I’ll have you know that in this tiny body I have brain power that would fry your little peanut thinker.  I have to.  Do you know how hard it is to avoid certain death when you’re so slow turtles blow you off the road?  Do you know how far in advance I have to plan for ANYTHING and how perfect I have to be at it?”  It waved its hind end a little in a way that reminded me of an irate human gesticulating.  “Ugh. I don’t have time for this.  Why are you here?”

“Well…this human saved me from a coyote. Big one.  Thought I was a goner.  He wouldn’t take help or attention or anything, just shoo’d me off.  I want to help back!”

“Standard human condescension then.  He didn’t do it for you. He did it cause coyotes are bad news for house pets that go outdoors and you just happened to be in the area.”

“Wait…really?”

“Yes REALLY.  You think humans are ambulatory sacks of goodness and food?”

“Well, most of them smell okay.  There are exceptions of course, including this one that made a skunk smell…” I tailed off at the -look- it gave me.  Amazing how an animal with no perceptible eyes can do that.

“Humans are self-centered and self-absorbed and self-involved and self…well you get the point.  Some are altruistic. Some are evil.  The rest are just a muddle of in between, sorta like day old slime trails.”

I didn’t get that simile at all.  I didn’t ask, either.

“Your human isn’t worth the devotion.  That said, are you still serious about wanting to give back?”

I scratched and pondered this.  I made sure I didn’t knock any fleas onto my case worker cause I’m a good dog.

“Well, if he doesn’t want the service, I’m sure something needs to be done. Kinda feel it in my bones, you know?”  Then I winced.  Slugs don’t have bones after all.  The slug seemed not to care.  Probably gets that a lot.

“You willing to clean up a little?”

“What? This is who I am!”

“I thought not.  Well, there is one job.  Kinda thankless, but you’ll be helping our kind as much as you are them if you accept.”

A really, really long piece of paper dropped from the ceiling on a beautiful web.  Like, work of art.  Orb spiders, I’m telling you.  “Is that sufficient, Mr. Worble sir?” I heard from the ceiling.

“That’s fine, Opal.  Thank you.”

I really, really wanted to know how an orb spider wound up as the personal assistant of a slug. 

“Pay her no mind, Mr. Dog.  Your contract”

“Erm. What does it say?”

“You mean you can’t read?!”

“Why?  I can understand and speak, that ought to be enough.”

“DOGS.”  When slugs sigh, it sounds kinda like microscopic slimy flatulence.  I just waited for it all to make sense.

Worble started reading the contract.  But not like you’d think a slug would read.  He read it like a hungry dog ravens over a bunch of ribs that weren’t picked clean.  I’m pretty sure words aren’t supposed to hit a brain that quickly.

So I asked him to do it again, but slower.  Longer slug flatulence this time. But he did it. 

“You’re asking me to become a neighborhood stray that scares kids.”

“Got it in one Mr. Dog.”

“But I like kids.”

“These kids are dumb and would pick up a snake.”

“Humans aren’t THAT dumb.”

“Really?  You really think so?  Opal?”

“Already done Mr. Worble sir!”

I looked up and there was a story in spider web form.  Like…human books?  Nothing on a spider with a story to tell.

“Really?”

“Really, Mr. Dog.”

“They tried to pet a wild moose?”

“Yes.  They survived, mostly because mom only wanted to teach a lesson, not bathe in the blood of her enemies.  Moose will do that if they get mad enough, you know.”

Wow. Glad moose don’t live here.

“And this one kissed a viper?”

“Yep.”

“Well…answer me this.  Is there any hope of a friendly kid or human throwing me a spare bone or something in this job?”

“Who knows, Mr. Dog.  As you well know, being a good dog doesn’t always mean being a nice dog.”

Slug speaking truth.  I felt that one in my toes and tail.

“How long is the contract for again?”

“For life, unless or until you directly save the life of a human.”

I sighed.  And then put my paw on the page where he said.  I offered my scent as well. He declined for some reason.  It’s really weird not working with a dog.

I sat there long enough to watch Opal bundle Worble up again and cart him away at much greater than the usual slug speed.  I really want to hear that story some day.  It was only after I left that I realized I’d forgotten to ask about food and sleep space.

The octopus was back on the phones when I left, like nothing had happened.  The tortoise had gotten to the second plant.  One of the cats scared one of the armadillos so badly it played dead and wouldn’t get up.  I left without saying anything and headed into another part of town.

And that’s how I wound up scaring rich kids to keep them out of trouble.  Saved the lives of other animals too, though it felt really wrong when I saved that squirrel.  I wonder sometimes if that will come back to bite me.  I live in the gutter between two of the bigger houses in the area.  It's not all bad though. I have cats to chase, and there's plenty of tossed out food. One time this kid gave me a sandwich, when he realized I was between him and a hornet nest.  I didn't even have to bark at him.  I think of him often.  Sometimes I follow him to school. From a distance.  His parents threw rocks one time, but the kid seems to get it.  I do wonder sometimes how long I’ll be at this.  But that’s the price of being a good dog. Even when you’re an ugly bad dog.

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