“Do you breed people?” Fleegle asks.

“How do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, people breed dogs. You’ve talked about my breeder, Suzie. So do you breed people? Does Suzie breed people?”

I look at him with my head cocked to the side.

“Do people breed people?” he asks again.

“No, they don’t.”

“What about arranged marriages? My parents’ pairing was arranged. What’s the difference between arranged marriages and arranged pairings?”

I glance out the den window at the bird feeders. I’m in luck. A squirrel is sitting on top of the big feeder gorging himself on the sunflower seeds. “Ooo,” I coo, staring outside. “Someone is hungry.”

“Squirrel,” Fleegle barks and bolts through his dog door.

When he returns he’s a dog with a bone. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I hang my head and look ashamed. “That’s because the answer is a little embarrassing.”

“I knew it. Neighborhoods are big breeding districts used as a way to control the pairings, am I right?” Fleegle, the conspiracy theorist.

“Um, no,” I say. “People are bred by squirrels so there’s someone tall enough to refill the bird feeders.”

“Oh, so you mean the squirrels control the breeding programs in the neighborhoods?”

I scratch my head. “Um, yes, that must be it.”

 

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