Fluffy

A Story by gman

Can I make you cry?

The sun brightly claimed its rightful place filling the sky, hardly a cloud dared to challenge it on that sunny April morning. There was even a faint smell of Jasmine populating the air as I passed under a vine covered in small white flowers that overhung the street where I walked. The day was beginning to feel hot, it would soon be noon as I ambled the narrow unpaved streets of the Portuguese village that lead back to my home.

Behind a two gated fence was a concrete stand made for a car to be parked on there. Next to the concrete stand was the side of the house, and at the furthest point away from the back door of house at the rear of the concrete stand, was a small dog kennel. The fencing around the concrete stand turned it into a perfect dog pen, and the overhanging branches from a tree in the garden at the rear, provide shade. The puppy, all white and fluffy looked a little bored, and seemed delighted to see me walking past his gates. The puppy didn't bark, he just quickly walked up to the gate and regarded me with his questioning eyes. I didn't stop then, but a few yards past the gates I did stop, and turned back to see the puppy.

As I was looking back at the puppy, a black and white Cat of a similar size to the puppy came to the gates. The puppy just wagged his tail, and those same questioning eyes looked pleased to see the cat as a new arrival at the gates. The Cat then arched it's back, the Cat's hair stood on end and then the Cat hissed loudly. Suddenly now the innocents of that puppy's world will be changed for ever. Aggression had just forced itself into the puppies world. I felt compelled to find a stone to throw at the Cat, to scare it away. But a car came down the narrow street and the Cat disappeared.

As this true life drama unfolded before me, I found myself asking why?

Why on a beautiful spring day, with natures perfect tranquility commanding all that I could feel. Did the black shadow of aggression, have to fall over both of us, and rip apart that shared innocent harmony that invisibly linked me and my new puppy friend together.

The next day I was walking past where the puppy lived., I could not see the puppy, maybe he was in the house being feed. Instead, standing where the puppy should of been, was a man in his early thirty's wearing jeans and a T shirt with a Benfica logo on it, this was obviously the football team he supported. His appearance combined with his mediterranean tan confirmed to me his Portuguese nationality. I wondered to myself, whether I should call a greeting to him, and ask about the puppy, or should I just walk by. My Portuguese language skills don't really stretch to a full conversational at any level. But I decided it would not hurt to start with the greeting 'Ola bom dia' and if that was met with a favorable response, just tell him he has a lovely looking puppy by using the words 'cão pequeno bonito' Which literally translated means 'small dog pretty' I was not ready for what happened to me next, The man had responded well to my greeting, and had moved a little closer to the gates, but at the mention of the puppy, he was through the gates and using my arm to pull me away from his house. He asked me what I knew? I suddenly felt like I had been accused of a crime that I was innocent of, But as he let go of my arm and I saw the pain contained in his own eyes, it became clear to me, as he explained that his daughter was in the house and he did not want her, to hear us talking about the puppy, as she would start crying again. His direct action of grabbing my arm was the result of needing to move me away from his house quickly, and seeing that I was English, the English words would not come into his head quickly enough. But now, certain that his daughter could not hear us talk, he explained in a combination of gestures, and broken English what had happened to the puppy that I had seen yesterday on the concrete standing. To help the conversation along, and confirm I was understanding what he was telling me, I replied with whatever Portuguese words I thought best fitted what he was explaining to me.

The Puppy had been a present for his daughter, she loved the puppy and immediately became very attached and devoted to the little fellow. She named the little puppy Fofo. He followed her everywhere.

It had been his idea, as a father, that now that Fofo was getting bigger he should have a yard of his own to run in.

Now he feared that his daughter would never stop blaming her Father for what had happened to her baby Fofo. He told me his daughter was devastated and inconsolable in her grief. She had seen everything, the noise had alerted her, and she had rushed from the house to see what was happening. He then made a fist so quickly in front of me that I stepped back in alarm. I could see he was full anger, but he was only demonstrating, as he extend his middle finger from the fist, it made a vicious looking claw shape that he trust into own eye, like he wanted to tear his own eye out with that finger. He combined this violent gesture with the word Gato. Which is the name for Cat in Portuguese. Immediately I could imagine all the ugliness that must of taken place there yesterday. Naturally Fofo would of lent his tiny little white fluffy head forward, to find out what the Cat smelled like, and maybe even playfully licked the Cat with his little pink tongue. That would of been the point when Fofo was at his most vulnerable and when with precision and viciousness the swift deadly claws of the Cat, would of deliberately dug deep into the innocent questioning eye's of Fofo. In that split second, the Cat would of pounced aiming at Fofo face ripping and tearing his eyes with attack, after attack, clawing harder each time. Then. Fofo's little snowy white face would of been immediately covered in blood. The daughter would scream again and a again, piercing screams as she witnessed her loving little Fofo squealing and rolling around the concrete unable to see, and in agonizing pain. The poor little fellow all would of been all confused and not understanding why this had happened to him.

Her Father had come rushing out side too, at the sound of his daughter screaming, fearing for his daughters safety. The Gato had fled by now, All her father could do was to gathered poor Fofo up in his arms and immediately drive Fofo to the vets. But at the vets nothing could be done to save the puppy's eyesight. It had been a brutal decision that her father had to make then, to have Fofo destroyed by lethal injection.. But he reasoned a blind puppy would not have a real life to enjoy and he could always get his daughter another puppy later. But nothing would be a substitute for his daughter love of her Fofo. Although the vet had agreed. The Father knew now that he had made the wrong choice. I put my left hand on the Fathers left shoulder his eye's had now filled with tears, I lead him back to his gates, and once there I shook his hand, before finally leaving him there I patted his shoulder with my right hand and said. 'I am sorry' as turned and walked away, I had only gone a few steps before I found myself in flood of tears too. I am sorry Fofo.