A Logical Explanation

"Skippy, Skippy, Skippy" Fenton began.

Skippy knew the tone. Every dog knows that tone. He lowered his head and crept to the doorway, cautiously looking back at his master.

Fenton sighed and felt bad for his dog. "Aw, come here, boy!" he called, in a lighter tone. "I'm not that mad, you just upset me. You nearly got yourself run over last night. Plus, you made us late for the game."

Skippy happily trotted over and rested his head on Fenton's knee. All was forgiven. Life had meaning again.

Skippy and Fenton were dual mascots for the Fillmore High Howling Huskies football team. Last night had been a big game - the last of the season - and the rest of the cheer squad was not happy to be without their mascots for the entire first quarter. Fenton was a big boy - bigger than most of the players on the team and he made an imposing Husky. Mascots from opposing teams usually backed down from any half-time wacky confrontations. Only "Beaky", the parrot from the Polk Pirates dared take him on. Last night, the opponents were the Lincoln Loggers. Their lumberjack looked elfin compared to giant Fenton. Every year, coach tried to convince Fenton to put away the dog costume and don a football uniform but Fenton always declined. He enjoyed the performance aspect of his mascot role. The cheer squad quickly forgave Fenton when he explained that Skippy had almost been hit by a car while taking a brief roadside bathroom break.

The Huskies won the game, surely in large part due to the superior cheering. After a night of revelry, the quiet morning gave Fenton the opportunity to reflect upon his dog's brush with danger. Fenton scratched between Skippy's ears. "You gave me quit a scare. I thought that car was going to hit you. I freaked out!"

Skippy groaned happily, lost in the wonderful head massage Fenton was applying.

Fenton thought about the night. The red car. Running to save his dog - it's so hard to move in the husky costume and the head blocks out all peripheral vision. He'd run into something..the driver? Fenton wasn't sure. He hadn't had time to check.

Fenton bent down and kissed the top of Skippy's head. "Well, boy. I think the time has come. When you tussled with that skunk last week, I'd hoped the smell would just wear off. I gotta tell you, it ain't wearin' off. Bath time."