Halston and Sausage

The air in the garden echoed the two dog’s quietness. The only break came from the far away din of a lawnmower. The warm, spring sun fell fast through the still air and their coats effortlessly soaked in the warmth.

 “It is a fine day, isn’t it,” asked Halston Love, the smaller puppy and usually the first to break the silence.

“Yes, yes it is,” replied Sausage T. Bear. “The grass is especially tasty today.”

The two puppies were led into a staring contest where they regarded the uncertain flight of a crane fly. Halston, no longer able to contain his skittish nature, went after the insect with his slight jaw open and ready for action. This move sent the insect into a pattern that resembled the movements of a whirling dervish and the uncoordinated gait of a drunken seventeen year-old high school senior.

“Darn things! I suppose there really is not that much going on today,” Halston remarked after containing his natural energies.

“No, I guess there isn't,” Sausage replied. “That is fine with me though I suppose.”

“Without the two-legged ones here it can get so boring,” Halston added.

            “I am very hungry and without their magic it is hard to get anything.”

“Oh dear friend,” Halston said. “It is not magic they use to bring us food. Our food sits on those two malevolent machines in that small room. It is from there that they draw our food.”

“Right, I have noticed that, but where does that come from,” Sausage asked. “They leave here and then will sometimes return with those magic bags. Of course, they will often come back with nothing at all.”

After a few more seconds of reflection he added, “Most of the things they do make me confused though.”

“It comes as no surprise to me that all these things confuse you. You are only seven months old,” Holston said with considerable condemnation.

“Oh, like you are so old and wise. You are barely a year yourself.”

“Sure, sure, but I have experienced a few things in my life and I know what is going on around here. The two-legged dogs leave here to go hunting for us. They put the kill into those bags because that is the only way they can get it onto those machines. Those machines will eat all of our food if it is not in those bags.”

“What do those machines eat,” Sausage asked with growing curiosity.

“They eat the material that is often draped around the two-legged dogs. They put that stuff in there all the time and then they can get the food out of those bags.”

“I don’t know if I believe that at all. I think they use magic.”

“Oh sure, magic makes a lot of sense. One day you will see. At least I pee with my leg up,” Halston replied, the sarcasm dripping off his fangs like syrup. “You still pee like your mommy.”

Halston smelled an unfamiliar brick so he went to it and marked it just to show off.

 “It’s uncomfortable to lift my leg like that and the two-legged ones do not seem to mind at all,” Sausage added after heavy consideration.

Halston returned to his perch on the stoop with satisfaction etched into his muzzle.

“You still look like a little girl though.”

A friendly silence levied itself on the two friends. A red bird landed ten feet from the pair oblivious to the minimal level of danger it could possibly encounter. Halston considered the bird with some lighthearted intention of striking but the comfortable, and often times annoying, glare of his friend stopped him.

“How do you always get that look in your eyes,” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You get this look where it seems that nothing in the world bothers you.”

“Well, there isn’t too much in this world that does bother me. All I need to know is when and where I am getting food.”

“You are so simple. I don’t know how you go through life like that.”

“It’s pretty easy. I just act like I am not you and then it’s pretty much a domino effect,” Sausage replied.

A heavier quiet descended upon the dogs. Sausage thought it best to not add anything else to their conversations for some time. It was always a bother when Halston wanted to argue all the points of life.