Fireworks

"I think we should have fireworks. What do you think?" Wendy wanted the celebrations to be perfect.

"Well, we ought to ask the neighbours," Stuart said. "They do have dogs. It would be considerate."

Wendy didn't want to ask the neighbours. She'd already been collared by the cantankerous old biddy at number 4 coming back from shopping, who was weeding in her front garden.

"Celebration this weekend, is it?" she'd asked, casually.

Wendy cursed the marquee erectors for their emblazoned van.

"Yes, just a small thing for Stuart's 50th, a few friends, you know." Oh God, Wendy thought, I hope she's not angling for an invite.

"How lovely," the biddy (Mildred?) said, without joy. "Planning fireworks at all?"

Out of frying pan, into fire.

Wendy found herself lying. "No, not at all." Someone had told her "It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission" and she wholeheartedly agreed with this for her own purposes.

"Only Rufus hasn't been himself lately and I wouldn't want anything to set him off."

Rufus decided then to make an appearance. Tail wagging, tongue lolling with a perky little strut. He was a deer head chihuahua, mild-mannered and, Wendy thought, a bit simple. She didn't think that he'd cause any damage on a rampage.

He came over to Wendy, sniffed her shopping and her feet.

"Well, better get on!" Wendy said, cheerfully, and with a wave of her hand, headed home.

*

The fireworks made the night.

Wendy was putting the bins out, smug at how well it had gone.

She turned to go back into the house and a little drunk, tripped over something. It was Rufus, who'd been lying behind her, tongue out, waiting to have his tummy tickled.

She bent to stroke him and was surprised when he started to snarl, the whites of his normally placid, docile eyes side-eyeing her. She went to withdraw but she was too late.

Rufus had hold of her wrist and sank his small sharp teeth into it and held on for dear life.

The dog-owning residents the next day debated as to what disturbed their night more - the artillery of the fireworks or the unmoderated shrieks of their neighbour.

***

366 words

200! Who'd have thought it? 166 to go which, I know this will sound weird, doesn't really seem like a lot...

I thought fireworks would be appropriate for such a milestone. Not sure Rufus would agree.

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