Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


Hayley Crumpet and the Case of the Missing Lamb

It was a warm spring morning when Hayley Crumpet first ventured outside. Hayley going outside for her morning walk was nearly the first thing that happened at her house every day. It gave her a chance to check the weather, make sure no bothersome squirrels, irritating cats, or invading neighbor dogs had tried to trespass in her yard overnight. They hardly ever did any more; now that Hayley was two years old and a fearsome nine inches tall, most of them knew to stay away. 

Most mornings, Hayley gave the squirrels a good barking-to anyway. She expected they probably forgot what she told them, no matter how often she repeated it. After all, they constantly forgot where they stashed their acorns. Hayley knew exactly where most of the acorn hiding places were though. Acorns, like everything else, have their own special scent and scents were Hayley’s specialty. Not that she had just one specialty.

Hayley prided herself on being a dog of many specialties. Besides scents, she had a large collection of toys, and each one of them had its own special squeaky sound. Unlike the silly squirrels and their acorns, she always knew where her toys were. Bacon was another specialty, but Hayley supposed it was almost everybody’s specialty, at least in her family. And her family was her specialty too, and her extra specialties were Sally and Lindy. Sally was four years old and a detective, and Lindy, who was just one, wasn’t really much help yet but loved to be a part of whatever Sally and Hayley were investigating. 

What they were investigating at the moment was the Case of the Missing Lamb. It wasn’t a real lamb — that would have been easy for Hayley to find. She could just sniff the trail. But this was Sally’s lamb, and it didn’t leave a trail because it was stuffed. Hayley had learned that Sally’s and Lindy’s stuffed animals didn’t have their own scents at all, not until they’d been played with enough — and even then the scents were almost the same as Sally’s and Lindy’s. 

That just made it more interesting, though. As soon as everybody had finished breakfast, Sally and Hayley went out to the back yard. Lindy was too little to go by herself, and anyway she had some new blocks she wanted to play with. When they got to the back yard and nobody else was around, Hayley said “where do we start looking today?”

Most people think dogs can’t talk. But most people aren’t Sally and Lindy, and most dogs aren’t Hayley Crumpet. When nobody else was around, Hayley and Sally could talk just fine. Hayley could talk to Lindy then too, but Lindy, who only knew a few words like “mama” and “baba,” just listened and clapped her hands. 

“Let’s go all the way to the back of the yard, near the sandbox,” said Sally. Hayley trotted there first, just to make sure it was safe. It was, of course, but Hayley took her job as Chief Protector seriously. Then she sat politely and waited for Sally. If the lamb was there, it would be more fun to find it together. Besides, when she sat politely Sally would say “good dog,” which always made Hayley’s tail wag. Even Hayley wasn’t sure why she was so fond of hearing “good dog,” but it was one of her favorite things. While she waited for Sally she made a mental note and added “hearing ‘good dog’” to her list of specialties. 

Sally and Hayley searched around the back of the yard but didn’t find the lamb. Then Hayley had an idea. She jumped into the sandbox and gave it a quick sniff. No acorns (an impudent squirrel had once stashed some acorns under the sand) but there was a faint aroma…Hayley located it and dug into the sand…and unearthed the lamb!

“Hooray!” said Sally, “good dog, Hayley! You found it!” Hayley’s tail was wagging fast while Sally grabbed the lamb and shook the sand out of it. She was careful to shake it far enough from Hayley that no sand got in anybody’s eyes. Then Sally gave the lamb a huge hug, sat down, and patted her lap so Hayley came to sit there. And Hayley got a huge hug too, which made her tail wag even faster. 

“Okay,” said Sally, “now let’s hide it somewhere else this time.” 



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated pup Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel. You can find her contributions tagged with Chocolatiana.