Gift-Fic: Still A Good, If Wet, Boy
by: Flaming Trails

“Arf!”

Lizzie blinked, shaking her head as she pulled herself out of her book. “What was that?” she asked no one in particular, looking around.

“Arf!”

This time, her ears registered the sound properly – both as a tiny dog bark, and as coming from about ankle height. She looked down to see a little blue-and-white corgi looking back up at her, big bat-like ears perked and stubby tail wagging. “Arf!” it repeated, putting its front paws on her shoe. “Arf!”

“Arf to you too,” Lizzie greeted it, putting her book down and bending over for a better look at the little dog. “Now, what are you doing here, you poor thing? You’ve still got all your fur, so you must be a recent death.” She offered it a hand to sniff. “And you don’t look like you got run over or eaten by something. Which is good, because those are terrible ways to go – but you definitely don’t look old enough for natural causes. You’re barely out of being a puppy.”

The dog nosed her hand, then got its head under her fingers, plainly demanding scritches. Lizzie obliged, smiling. “You’re not being very helpful, you know.”

“Hey, Liz – huh. Haven’t seen a rat that big in ages.”

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Lizzie lightly scolded, not even bothering to look up at her beau. “You must have seen a corgi before. Right?”

“Actually, I don’t think I have,” Bonejangles replied, coming up beside her and crouching down for a better look at the dog. It immediately turned toward him, sniffing his feet with interest. “Don’t even get any ideas about chewing those toes, you…anyway, I knew they existed, but – yeah, not sure I ever ran into one in person before now. Funny-lookin’, aren’t they?”

“They’re adorable,” Lizzie defended the pup, watching as it immediately began begging Bonejangles for pets.

“They could take off with those ears,” Bonejangles retorted, scratching behind them for emphasis.

“But in an adorable way.” Lizzie smiled as the corgi nuzzled itself against Bonejangles’s fingers. “I was just trying to determine why this little boy – or girl – is down here with us. Illness, perhaps?”

“Maybe…” Bonejangles rubbed its head a bit more, then gave it another look-over, eye rolling from left to right. “Or – ugh. I hate to say it, but you notice how – hang on–” He craned his head for a better look at the dog’s hindquarters. “He’s kinda round?”

“Yes, well, they’re supposed to be.”

“I’ll take your word on that…but this don’t look like fat round.” He held up his hand, showing Lizzie the moisture glistening on his bones. “That looks like ‘Bloated Barry’ round.”

Lizzie gasped, eyes wide with horror. “Oh no…they didn’t…”

“Hate to say it, Liz, but puppies get the sack-and-brick treatment all the time,” Bonejangles said as the corgi nuzzled his leg. “From wankers who can’t be bothered to try and adopt ‘em out, usually.” Bonejangles squinted at the dog. “Mean, I think he looks a little old for that, but, again, ain’t seen a corgi before.”

“I don’t care how old he is – that’s awful, to do that to a dog.” Lizzie bent down and picked the unresisting pup up, settling it on her lap. “You poor, poor thing…you must have swum out of the river and been wandering around here ever since. We the first people to give you some affection?”

The dog barked again and licked her chin, tail wagging away. Lizzie gave it another scritch behind the ears, biting her lower lip. “You’re such a happy little pup, too…how could anyone just throw you away?”

The dog cocked his head, one ear drooping. “Like I said, Liz – wankers,” Bonejangles said, joining her on the bench. “But I imagine he’ll have a better time of it down here. Lots of people to throw scraps and stuff to him…heh, speaking of which, maybe we should take him to meet Scraps. He’d probably appreciate a friend.”

“I bet he would,” Lizzie agreed absently, petting the dog further down its short little body and ignoring the drips that squeezed out of its fur. “Bet a lot of people would appreciate him as a friend.”

“…we have a dog now, don’t we?”

Lizzie laughed, a touch wetly. “Yeah, I think we do. I’m sorry, I just – you know I have a thing about creatures who died unfairly, and he already seems so sweet…”

“I ain’t complain’,” Bonejangles assured her, grinning. “If the Elder can pick up Victor’s old dog, I don’t see why we can’t take in this fella. What are we callin’ him, then?”

Lizzie picked up the dog, examining it as it panted curiously. “Well – he’s got a little zig-zaggy streak of white on his forehead,” she said, tracing it with a finger. “Why not Lightning?”

The corgi barked, seemingly in approval. “Why not indeed,” Bonejangles nodded, and shook its tiny paw. “Welcome to the family, Lightning.”

The End