First Impression

Previously we had 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9. Then the 10th Thursday Prompt from Poetigress was "new pet." And so--

     "It's demeaning is what it is," El Brujo was saying, 

huddled close to my thighs in an effort to keep out of the wind.  

"But why should I be surprised?  Dogs and crows haven't an ounce 

of propriety to share amongst either of their genera: 

it's common knowledge."

     I was concentrating on getting us back to the house.  Not 

that I expected rain from the big clouds skittering across the 

blue overhead, not around here at the end of April.  But the 

wind was blowing against us, and a guy in a wheelchair with a 

big black cat in his lap, that's not exactly an aerodynamic 

shape.

     "And while I don't wish to bring up a sore subject," El 

Brujo continued, "I can't help but express my concern once more 

about this whole 'Augie Dog' nom de plume you've adopted 

when pretending you're someone else with your computer friends."

She sighed and seemed to spread herself more uniformly across my 

legs.  "Such identification can only herald a lack of--"

     "This!" a yapping little voice said from the other side of 

the unkempt wooden fence we were currently rolling past.  "Is 

so!  Exciting!"  Something scampered about in the over-grown 

grass, and sliding to a halt, I found I couldn't see what it 

was.  The house here had been empty for months since the bank 

took it away from the Petersons, but a "U-Haul" van sat in the 

driveway now, boxes stacked around it.  "I can't!" the voice was 

saying.  "Believe!  How wonderful!  Ev'rything is!"

     The rustling had gotten El Brujo's attention, and she 

snapped alert, her front paws suddenly on the arm of the chair, 

her tail flicking slowly, her narrowed gaze focused.  "That 

smells like a--" she said.  "But how can it--?"

     It popped from under cover, then, into a less bushy part of 

the yard: a dog about the size of a clenched fist, all fly-away 

dark red fur, huge brown eyes, and flapping pink tongue.  

"Singing!" it shouted.  "Dancing!  Just!  Can't!  Stop!"  It 

spun in circles, and everything about it made me think this was 

a little girl puppy.

     El Brujo's ears went back, and she sniffed.  "Children, 

I've always felt, should be seen and not heard."

     The puppy froze, her eyes somehow even wider and staring at 

El Brujo.  "Cat lady!" she said, her voice full of wonder.  

"Beautiful cat lady!"

     I couldn't help smiling at the effect that one simple word 

had on El Brujo's entire attitude, like it was a hand smoothing 

her fur and scratching her ears; her whiskers curled into a 

smile, and she said, "Well.  A perceptive child at least."

     "I'm Heather!" the puppy chirped, leaping forward to peer 

up at us between the slats of the fence.  "I've never been 

outside before!  Is it always so big and...and...and 

ev'rything??"

     "Pretty much," I said.  I leaned down and stuck out a 

finger for Heather to sniff.  "I'm Augie, and this is my friend 

El Brujo.  Have you just--?"

     "Heather!" another voice called--human this time--and I 

straightened up to see a young woman on the steps of the house, 

her hair short and dark, little round glasses perched on her 

nose.  "Behave yourself!"

     "Deena!"  The puppy shot across the scraggly lawn, the 

woman crouching to catch her when she flew into her arms.  "This 

is the best place ever!"

     The woman smiled at the puppy, and I guessed she was about 

my age, early twenties or so--I've never been that good at 

figuring this stuff out when it comes to humans.  She turned the 

smile on me, and it became a bit more guarded.  "I hope her 

yapping isn't bothering you," she said.

     "Not at all."  I put on a smile of my own.  "It's always 

nice to see someone new in the neighborhood.  I'm Gus, one of 

the local gimp squad."

     Her smile got even more guarded.  "Deena," she said, 

rubbing Heather's tummy, the puppy squirming around like she was 

trying to lick all Deena's fingers at the same time.  "Me and 

the folks're just moving in, so I...I gotta go!"  She spun, 

bolted through the door, and it slammed shut.

     I swallowed, grabbed the rims, pushed us forward, El Brujo 

settling back onto my lap.  "A potentially bright child, that," 

she said.  "We'll have to make this a regular part of our rounds 

from now on."

     "If you say so," was all I could manage to get out.

On further into double digits with 11!