Scuffy stood staring at Peewee through the impenetrable chainlink fence, their noses just inches apart.
“Why aren’t you barking?” asked Scuffy. “You hate me, remember?” He was a thin, medium-sized mutt with messy, red-brown fur, an untidy face, and one white paw.
“Well why aren’t you barking?” demanded Peewee. The little chihuahua stared defiantly up at Scuffy, her curled tail alert, her paws set wide and ready in the shaggy grass of her backyard.
“Oh c’mon now,” Scuffy protested. “You know why, so quit with the act. You haven’t seen your people recently, have you?” Scuffy quietly lowered his haunches and sat very tall. “I mean, don’t you think it’s weird? I haven’t seen my people in two days. I’m honestly getting worried... and hungry.” A high pitched whine escaped the older dog’s snout. He could not help it! Indeed, it was all he could do to hold back a howl, or even worse, a yowl.
Peewee began to tremble uncontrollably. “Yeah.... yeah I know. It’s not good. I haven’t smelled a person, haven’t heard a car, a voice, nothing!” Peewee’s sizable ears perked up and she looked through the fence at Scuffy’s backyard. “You have any water? Last I drank was when the sprinklers went off.”
“I got one toilet that’s half full.” The two dogs looked at each other through the fence and suddenly realized that right then, all they had in the world was each other, and that their situation might be even more dire than they had feared.
“We gotta get outta here!” yarped Peewee, spinning herself in a circle.
“How about we dig?” offered Scuffy and Peewee’s tail wagged a bit at the idea.
“How about I dig to get to you, and you dig to get us out?” the chihuahua suggested and Scuffy barked his approval. “Save some of that toilet water for me,” she said. “I’m going to need it!”