Fleegle and Franny lay in the grass in the backyard licking the sides of their front paws obsessively.
When they notice me watching, Fleegle raises his head and says forlornly, “Raud, someone stole our dewclaws.”
They were removed when he was a puppy. “Don’t look at me. You showed up with four toed paws.”
He looks at where his dewclaws should be. “The dogs at the park have five toes on their paws. Where are our fifth toes?”
Franny looks up from her paw-goobering. “Yeah, we want them back.”
“You’ll have to talk to your matchmaker breeder about that,” I say.
“You mean Suzie has our toes? What, like in a drawer someplace?” Fleegle asks.
Franny tilts her head to the side. “Yuck, what if my toes get mixed up with Fleegle’s? I don’t want brown toes.”
Fleegle stands up. “We need to go to Eugene and get our toes back, Raud.”
Franny stands up too. “Yeah we do. Let’s go.”
I clear my throat, preparing to make a stand. “That reminds me. You’ve both been making a lot of clickity clack sounds when you walk on the wood floors. It must be time to trim the nails you do have.”
Fleegle starts to slink across the lawn toward the bamboo. “My nails are just fine. No trimming needed here.”
“But what about going to Eugene and retrieving your dew claws?” I ask. “They’ll need to be trimmed too.”
“Another time. I’ve got things to do,” he says and disappears into the bamboo.
“How about you, Franny? Are you ready for your nails to be trimmed?”
“You’re not trimming mine. Long nails are all the rage right now at the park. Did you pick up the pink polish I asked for?”
“I’m not going to paint your nails.”
“But I’ll paint yours if you do.”