Molly & Milty — A Love Story

By Ken Luber
Idyllwild author

Editor’s note: This is another of a series of installments of a short story local author Kenneth Luber has written. See prior week Town Criers for the other installments.

“Fred, Fred?”

“Yes?” He lowered the newspaper so we could see eye to eye.

“It’s not easy for me to say this. But your loveable Milty is drinking from the toilet!” I blurted it out. In one ghastly howl I got it off my chest. I raced around the room in a circle, shouting, “Toilet! Toilet! Toilet!”

“He’s what?”

I was almost out of breath when I slid to a stop at his new burgundy slippers. My mouth flew open. “Drinking from the toilet!”

“Impossible, Molly. I always put the seat cover down. It’s habit. Betty insisted I do it.”

He was using the Miss Betty card again, but I wasn’t going for it this time. “Sweet Miss Betty passed away two years ago. You’ve been forgetting because she’s not here to remind you.”

He took a sip of red wine and thought a minute. “You’re sure? You’ve seen Milty do it?”

“With my beautiful golden eyes. More than once.”

“Well, I’ll just have to be more mindful. Thank you for letting me know.”

Thank you! Fred took the blame! No punishment for Milty. No teaching moment or showing ‘He-Can-Do-No-Wrong’ Milty – not to do such a disgusting thing. I jumped over the couch. Milty was spared the ax of justice once again.

I started to walk away. Just as I got to the hallway, I couldn’t hold back. “His barking scares the mailman,” I muttered.

Fred heard me from his leather chair. “Walter has delivered the mail to this house for almost a dozen years, and he hasn’t complained once, either before we got Milty or since we took him in.”

“We?” I huffed. “Fred, I used to sit on the windowsill and watch Walter come up the walk lugging that heavy leather bag. He always waved to me when he saw me in the window. Since you got Milty, Walter hurries up to the door, drops off the mail and marches back to his cart. No wave, no smile. The barking destroys his usually friendly nature.”

Fred seemed to understand what I was saying. He nodded. “I’ll leave a note on the door, explaining that Milty is a friendly giant. But listen to me,” he announced from across the living room. “You’ve got to be more friendly towards Milty. Make the first effort. That’s what building a friendship is about. Don’t forget. He’s a rescue dog. Sometime in his past he was totally ignored and treated very badly.”

I took his conciliatory tone as a gesture to bring me back into a conversation. “Right,” I said, as I sashayed back across the carpet. “You’re saying I should be the adult in this situation. Take the lead. Show the pup how things are done in this house.” I felt for the first time Fred was giving me some responsibility and acknowledging that I was the senior member in the Duparlo household.

I puffed my chest just slightly. “You know you can count on me, Fred. We’ve got a history together. I was there when Miss Betty passed, and I’m here again for you to see us through this crisis with Floppy Ear, I mean Drool Wagon, I mean Milty. That’s right, Milty.”

Molly & Milty return next week.