InsaneJournal

Muffy: Well, This Was A Surprise
Lying across the car seat, Tara’s fingers running over and around my ears, I could tell this was a different car ride. We certainly weren’t going to one of those places where I had to stand still to be felt over and trot around in circles. They hadn’t given me the full treatment, for one thing. Just the once-over with a brush. The air hanging over us felt… strange, too. It held some faint charge of excitement, yet at the same time hung heavy with tinges of gloom. Tension and ease, coming and going in waves. I wasn’t sure what to feel.

The gentle motion of the car slowed to a halt and I heard the crunch of gravel beneath us.

“Here we are, Muffy.”

Dad’s voice, deep and booming. I heard my name, and my tail stirred reflexively at the familiar sound. The car door opened and Jed and Tara tumbled out, Tara still clutching me in her slim brown arms. Her landing was rather jarring, but it was no cause for concern. I knew she’d never hurt me.

We were standing before a small white house. Tara had set me down, now, and both she and Jed were running wildly for the opening door.

“Grandma, Grandma!”

Before I followed them, I gave the grass and the air a general cast-around with my nose. The usual smells – plants, birds, squirrels, earth. Humans and dogs. Nothing special, aside from the fact that I’d never been here before.

The click-scuff of dog paws on concrete was suddenly audible behind me, and I lifted my head, ears flexing. A large yellow Labrador was strolling slowly past, walking leashless beside his human. Feeling in a good mood about being out in the open air, I barked a greeting to him, waving my tail.

His face was typical of his breed – broad and blocky with a wide floppy mouth that hung open in a pant, which could normally be construed as friendly. Certainly his thick tail was waving slightly as he turned to face me. But his large brown eyes held nothing but cold contempt. The look he gave me said two things. One, you are nothing, and two, you are not welcome here.

I stopped in mid-wag and watched him pass as his heavy head swung away from me and returned to swaying with the rhythm of his walk. This was odd. If he had been trying to be superior, he should have ignored me completely. If he had been trying to tell me I was on his turf, he should have barked and leapt at me. He had simply been being hostile – for no apparent reason and in an uncommon way. Confused, I backed several paces and sat down in the grass.

“Muffy. Muffy! Muffy!”

They were calling me. I got to my feet again and dashed across the grass to the door. No sooner was I inside than I began to feel at ease again. Everytime we sat in the car, we always went somewhere that did not smell of us. As interesting as changes could be, I was always glad to get back into the car again, back into that familiar-smelling thing that brought us home. That’s what this place smelled like, even though I knew I had never been here before. There were various other scents layered in, over and under it, but the essence of it was unmistakable. Family. Home. I could hardly keep my tail from wagging, the scent was so welcome. It almost made me forget the Labrador.

“Muffy, come here. Come and meet Grandma!”

Tara’s arms closed around me and I was carried along to where the rest of them were gathered. I was used to Tara carrying me, believe me, but I fidgeted a bit. One of the different things I had smelled on the way in had most definitely been dog, and I was keen to check it out.

Instead I was brought to where the rest of the family were standing around a chair. There was another human in it, just sitting there, and I just had time to register her scent before I was unceremoniously plonked in her lap.

She smelled like us. That scent of family. Slightly different, but it was most definitely there. Her hands were small and skinny and gentle, but they most definitely knew what they were doing. Capable. Practised. This was a human who knew how to touch a dog. I relaxed as her fingers combed my fur.

“Muffy likes you, mama,” I heard Dad say, as if from a distance.

A soft chuckle, from just above my head. I looked up into her face, wagging my tail some more.

“Why, look who it is.”

She lifted me gently and set me on the floor. Looking right at me was a small terrier, about half my size. His coat was short for a Yorkshire’s, clipped close to his body so that the long fur over his eyes didn’t fall into them.

He drew himself up, ears and tail erect, and looked right at me, as the retriever had, but without unfriendliness. He was simply telling me that he was head of this house, and as long as I respected that, we would get along just fine. I flattened my ears and approached him with my tail low and wagging, telling him that I understood perfectly.

We sniffed each other over before standing back, tails wagging, glad that we were both in agreement about our standing with regards to each other.

“Mornin’ to ye, lass,” he said approvingly. “Well brought-up, y’are. Tha’d make any dam proud.”

My tail lifted slightly. “Ah, no, sir, not really. But.. um. Thank you.”

He whuffed lightly through his nose in amusement. “Mama Sweet calls me Kitson. What do they call tha’?”

“Muffy, sir. Um… Mama Sweet?”

“S’ what the humans call ‘er.” He looked up towards the small skinny woman who so smelt of family. “And what we call ‘er too. But come on, lass. We been expectin’ tha’.”

Kitson turned and trotted away, and I followed him.

The kitchen was small but warm and clean, and lying in a dog basket off to the side was a small creature that lifted its bat-eared head as we approached. My nose told me it was a small bitch; my eyes that she was a Chihuahua. Both senses told me she was venerable – her fur, which must once have been a lovely rich gold, was now greying and sparse, and she moved with a delicate slowness. Nonetheless, there was a look of welcome in the clouded eyes that made me instantly warm to her, and I felt my tail loosen as it rose from my hocks in a wag.

Kitson went up to her and nipped her lightly on the neck.

“This is Muffy, Honey-mum,” he told her, with affection in his voice. “She’d be the one we been expectin’.”

The old Chihuahua peered at me, her black nose twitching as she extended her muzzle towards me. “Come closer, pup.”

I did as I was told, and we sniffed noses. Her short tail thumped against the linen of her bed.

“Such a sweet one you are, young miss. And the blood of a Champion to boot. Yes, yes, I can see why Mama Sweet chose you.”

Chose me? For what? I raised my head, cocking it at an angle in bemusement.

“I’m not sure I quite understand.”

“We knew that something was going to happen.” Honey-mum nodded towards the corner, where there were two more baskets made up with linen and blankets. One was rumpled and Kitson’s scent lay heavily on it, but the other held a scent that I recognised with some shock as my own.

“When I saw that,” Honey-mum was saying, “I guessed there’d be a new arrival of some kind. And lo and behold, the smell…”

I stepped back, confusion and a slight panic warring within me. “Wait a minute. There must be some mistake,” I said, though I wasn’t sure of my own words. “I… I have a pack. A family.”

The Chihuahua laid her head back upon the blankets. “But we are your pack, my dear. We knew it as soon as your humans came through the door. They have been here before – though never with you – and we always knew they were family. Just as you knew Mama Sweet was family, too, pup. You knew it the minute you snuffed her. Didn’t you?”

The scent... that overwhelming sense of familiarity and right-ness. It was true.

“But… but. All the same. They wouldn’t… leave me here?”

Kitson shrugged. “Seems like it t’ me.”

Filled with uncertainty, I dashed back out into the hall to find my family still talking and laughing with Mama Sweet. I dashed up to each of them in turn, wagging and leaping, trying to find some proof to combat my insecurity. Surely they would reassure me.

They all stood up, one by one, and Tara caught me in her arms and held me close. She was sad, my girl, I could tell, by the droop of her shoulders, her trembling chin, her scent. I swiped her cheek with my tongue, and she made a choked noise.

“Goodbye, Muffy,” she whispered in my ear, and suddenly Jed was next to us, hugging me too and murmuring. Then they were gone. I dashed to the doorway, trying to follow them, but a leg and foot barred my way as the door closed. From behind it, outside, I could hear the sound of car doors slamming and the engine purring into life.

In desperation I scuffed at the wooden surface of the barrier with my paws, whimpering, confused. What was happening? Why was I here?

Gentle arms closed around me and lifted me, and the now familiar, but still new, scent of Mama Sweet filled my nostrils.

“There now, see, it’ll all be just fine, girl.”

I was carried to the kitchen and placed firmly on my dog bed, as a handful of biscuits were poured onto my blankets. I flopped down, still to anxious to enjoy them. Kitson and Honey-mum regarded me impassively.

“Don’t ye fret, lass,” the terrier said gruffly. “Mama Sweet’s a good sort. Y’ people will be back right enough. They’re allus comin’ ‘ere. And y’ haven’t e’en met the Toys yet.”

Despite the growing dismay at the pit of my stomach, I raised my head. “Met who?”

“The Toys,” Honey-mum repeated. “They come over once every so often and I’m thinking Mama Sweet might have told them if you were coming today – oh look,” she broke off suddenly, her ears swivelling towards the direction of the door, “here’s someone now! I do believe it’s Miss Della.”

I’d heard and felt the footsteps outside too, and just then the doorbell rang. Kitson rose to his feet and trotted, chest out and head and tail high, out to greet them. Taking one look at Honey-mum’s meaningful glance, I got up slowly and followed, albeit somewhat grudgingly.