As Gemma walked into the small two-bedroom terraced house that she had bought with her boyfriend, Scott, three years before that they had been renovating, her jaw hit the floor. Gemma let out a loud moan when she turned the handle of the immaculately sparkling sitting room that she had left a mere hour before, and saw it covered in feathers from the cushions off of the couch which lay askew on the floor. She walked into the room and nearly slipped on the wet wood, her grandmothers Waterford crystal vase smashed into a thousand pieces, the fresh flowers that she had bought that morning sprinkled here and there. Gemma put her hands on her head and let out a scream that would make the hairs on the back of your neck raise; ‘MORRIS!!!’
She heard a clapping sound from the adjoining kitchen as Morris’s ears hit off each other as he shook his head, followed closely by the tick-tick-tick of his tiny paws on the tiles, growing ever closer. Gemma looked down as her golden coloured twelve week old cocker spaniel puppy tried with all his mite to climb up her leg. She couldn’t help the corner of her mouth raise instinctively to a tiny smile. Gemma bent down and picked up the little scamp so he wouldn’t cut his paws on the expensive broken glass. Morris proceeded to lick her nose and her tiny smile turned into a big one as his little tongue tickled her face. ‘How could I stay mad at you?’ she asked the wriggling worm in her arms.
Gemma stepped over the broken vase and through the sea of feathers and into the compact kitchen to fetch a dust pan and broom, Morris resting in the crook of her arm. As she proceeded to sweep up the broken vase she started talking to the puppy as though he was a child; ‘you know me and daddy are trying to sell this place!’ she said in a sing song voice, ‘there’s supposed to be someone here in an hour to look at it and you,’ she scratched behind his right ear, ‘are not helping!’ Gemma realised that trying to pick up the glass was next to impossible with a bundle of joy utilising one of her arms. She sighed and stood the broom up against the arm of the stained grey sofa and placed Morris in his bed in the kitchen under the wooden table. She had to race to the door so she would get there before him in order to close it and clean up the mess he had created. She couldn’t understand how the vase got broken, but then again, she didn’t understand how he had this amount of control over her, he was just a puppy after all.
Finally, nearly an hour later, an hour that killed her as a mother as all she could hear was her baby whining and scratching at the door that separated them, the sitting room looked almost normal again. Just as she put the last of the feathers back into the hole of the sofa cushion, Gemma realised that she hadn’t heard anything from the kitchen in a while. She smiled to herself thinking Morris went into his bed before hearing a crash and rolled her eyes as she knew that was the sound of his water bowl being knocked over. ‘I swear the rascal is making a mess deliberately!’ she whispered to herself as she turned the cushion cover over to the side that had fewer visible rips and tares.
With the glass safely gathered in the dust pan, Gemma opened the kitchen door. She entered another room covered in feathers; Morris had ripped open his bed and was jumping all around the kitchen trying to catch the contents. ‘MORRIS!!’ Gemma let out a scream and he stopped, turned his head and looked at her with his sad puppy dog eyes. She could have sworn she saw tears forming in them. He scurried over to her, his tail between his legs and sat on her right foot. She looked down at him and sighed. She placed the pan full of glass onto the counter and stood the broom against the fridge and lifted him up, one hand under his bottom, the other under his two front paws and apologised to the little mite; ‘I’m sorry if I frightened you,’ she said softly, ‘but daddy and I want to get a bigger house, one with a garden that’s nearer the beach for you to run around and burn off some of this extra energy that your getting!’ he licked her nose once more. She started to giggle and held her baby right up to her chest, kissing the top of his head, looking at another room she needed to try and look presentable before the buyers came to the door. The doorbell rang. Gemma sighed and whispered to herself, ‘too late!’