Wednesday, September 13, 2017. Daily Brit Wit.
A unit of weight equal to 14 pounds (6.35 kg).
“The little girl’s lower lip pouts and practiced tears fill her amber eyes.
‘Please Mummy?’ Her voice is nothing more than a whimper, real and pathetic whereas her tears seem fake. The tremble in her tone cannot be replicated in one so young. ‘I promise, Mum, I’ll do everything. Please please please please can we get a puppy?’
The mother sighs world weary. ‘I’m not sure if you’re ready for all responsibilities that go into having a dog, Kelly.’
The girl isn’t deterred. ‘I’m ready. I’ve convinced Daddy.’
Her mother’s unamused. ‘Oh yeah?’ She raises both eyebrows and crosses her arms under her chest. ‘Let me guess: he said to ask me?’
‘You’re great at this!’
‘You do realise the puppy isn’t going to be small forever, yeah?’ The mother questions. At her daughter’s nod, she continues. ‘I’m serious, little lady, a red setter can get to be three or four stone. He will be extremely heavy.’
‘I know. I still want him!’ Kelly’s elation shines from her gummy-smile to her loose shoulders down to her bouncing feet. ‘Please Mummy?’
Her mother hesitates to deny and the girl brightens, knowing she’s as good as gotten her approval. Before Kelly can cheer, Mother holds out a hand.
‘You’ll feed him–‘
‘Play with him, take him outside, make sure he’s–‘
‘Yes I promise, Mummy, please can we get one?!’
She laughs. ‘You can come out now, Dan.’
At the invitation from his wife, Kelly’s father enters the kitchen holding a rather large box. Mother and daughter track the auburn-headed man’s movements with various levels of interest. The woman’s lower lip is chewed to hide a smile whilst her child looks fit to burst. The man moves to stand in front of the island counter and sets the white box down. Their daughter scrambles to sit on a bar stool and tries to peer inside it. She is lightly scolded.
‘Happy birthday, love.’ Her father chuckles and pops the extra large green bow on her head.
Kelly giggles and opens the gift. She promptly screeches inarticulately. ‘A puppy!’
The russet toned animal, not much different in colour than Kelly’s father’s hair, peeks out and spies the little human and immediately licks her face. Giggles fill the kitchen.
‘It’s a girl, sweetheart.’ Her father states, wearing a smile.
‘What are you naming her?’ The mother asks.
Several moments of giggles and shrikes and happy yaps pass before it looks as if Kelly will answer.
‘I think I’m going to name her Delilah.’
Her parents startle at the pronouncement. ‘Why Delilah?’
The girl grins and kisses the pup’s head prior getting head-butted. ‘It’s a flower and it’s a good name for playing games. Do you think she’d be a good make-believe horse if I’m a cowboy?’
‘Cowgirl,’ her father corrects.
‘Same thing,’ she shrugs off.
‘Sure, why not?’ The mother replies and lifts the puppy onto the floor. ‘Let’s take Delilah outside.’
And it’s a race to see who will make it out first as child and pup tumble, trip, and tussle out into the garden.”