Nick Nack Paddy Whack

“That damn dog is out there AGAIN,” her boss cursed. He gave it a swift kick in the ribs, yelling all the while. “GET OUTTA HERE, YA NUISANCE!”

The dog yipped in pain and skulked away.

She grabbed some scraps she had pushed to the side of the cutting board. “Gotta go to the loo,” she called, as she hurried toward the market’s public restrooms.

She found the dog, shivering, cowering around the corner. She knelt to give it the scraps she had trimmed. Clucking like a mother hen, she stroked his head with one hand as she let him lick her palm clean before she headed back to the butcher’s stall.

Every day was the same. The dog arrived for the scraps that were headed for the garbage anyway. The butcher cursed and kicked the poor animal. She would, at some point, smuggle some food out to the dog.

The next day the cycle would repeat.

One day, the butcher showed her the gun. “Bought this to deal with that damn nuisance dog,” he said.

“You can’t shoot the dog,” she said, her heart quickening with fear.

“You gonna stop me?” he challenged, facing her and puffing out his chest.

“N-n-n-o,” she stammered. “It’s just that we’re in the middle of town. You can’t shoot here.”

The dog came that day and he gave it a particularly vicious kick.

In the afternoon, when he went to play boules with his friends, she took the gun out of the drawer.

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This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge which is to write no more than 250 words and base it on the photo.

This is also for Dawn who wanted more of the story regarding At the Therapist. I’m not sure if kicking a dog warrants a shooting. I need my shooter to go into some sort of fugue state for this to work.

I may have to give this another go.