Fanfiction with puppies
Hi, I'm new here. This is my first attempt at any fanfiction longer than a drabble so I hope it's okay. Dog has had his way with Shutzi and Adam has to find homes for the puppies.
Homes Wanted
“…an’ Dad says I’ve got to find homes for them,” finished Adam.
The Them turned their attention to the puppies in the middle of the floor. Hellhound, terrier and poodle genetics had combined to create four very different dogs. There was Hermione, a brownish terrier who seemed to have been born fully trained, Sirius, a huge and black, but extremely friendly, dog, Sybil, a grey bug-eyed puppy who seemed to have inherited all her mother’s poodle genes, and Harry, a black scruffy mongrel with a growl bigger than his body and eyes which glowed red when he was upset. Dog was regarding them with slightly embarrassed pride. He knew he was in trouble and, more importantly, had caused trouble for his Master but he was still hopelessly pleased with himself. He had put a lot of effort into his relationship with Shutzi.
“Who d’you reckon will take them?” asked Pepper.
“I thought maybe you three…” began Adam. But the Them were shaking their heads.
“My Dad’ll never let me,” said Wensleydale.
“Sorry, Adam,” said Pepper. “Maybe Newt and Anathema’d like one.”
“She can’t,” said Brian. “Witches have to have cats.”
“I don’t see why,” said Adam.
“It’s prob’ly cause of the broomsticks,” said Brian. “They have to sit on them. A dog would fall off.”
“Anathema doesn’t have a broomstick,” said Wensleydale.
“Right, and a dog could sit on it anyway. Harry was sitting on the arm of the sofa earlier,” said Adam.
“You shouldn’t let him on the furniture,” said Wensleydale.
Adam shrugged, unwilling to admit that Harry simply ignored anything he said. He had never had this trouble training Dog.
“Let’s go to Jasmine Cottage,” he said. “It can’t hurt to try.”
It was a nice day for a walk, although Harry seemed to be of the opinion that dog walking is akin to maypole dancing, i.e. the idea is to wind in and out of other people gradually decreasing the length of the lead. They eventually managed by having Pepper walk Harry, and Adam walk the other three, with Pepper walking on the opposite side of the road to Adam. As they reached Jasmine Cottage they realised they were not the only people headed there. A plump middle-aged woman and a man dressed in what could only be an old mackintosh were headed there as well.
“Hello, Shadwell. Hello, Madam Tracey,” called Adam, cheerfully.
“Hullo, love,” said Madam Tracey.
“Hellooo, and whut’re you doin’ here?” demanded Shadwell.
A car roared past, startling the puppies. Sybil yelped and Harry growled, his eyes flashing red.
“Spawn o’ the devil,” yelled Shadwell, flinging a firelighter* at Harry and hitting the car instead.
Sirius, who thought he knew what you were supposed to do when people threw things, pulled his lead free and took off after the firelighter. Sybil, whose lead had also come free, ran into Jasmine Cottage and cowered under the sofa until she was coaxed out by Newt. Harry stayed where he was, still growling and Hermione looked faintly disapproving.
“Don’t be silly, Mr S,” said Madam Tracey. “It was just a trick of the light.”
“I know whut I saw, wumman, no nat’ral thing has glow’n eyes.”
Adam heard the car screech to a halt. He dropped Hermione’s lead and ran after Sirius. He found him standing in the road with the firelighter in his mouth. An extremely vexed woman in black was staring at him. Contrary to what Crowley had once said, Adam remembered her.
“Hello, Sister Mary,” he said.
“Mary Hodges,” said the woman, looking distracted. Then her expression hardened as she picked up her train of thought. “Do you know what this dog has done? First it leaps onto the bonnet of my car, then when I get out it leaps into me. It nearly caused a serious accident and it made me drop my car keys,” she snapped.
“He’s only a puppy. You can’t blame a puppy for jumpin’ at you. He was bein’ friendly I ‘spect,” said Adam.
“He should be better trained. Although if you help me find my car keys I’ll say no more about it. I have to be at an important meeting in twenty minutes.”
A polite bark made them both look down. Hermione was sitting there with the car keys between her front paws.
“What a smart dog. And much better behaved than the other one,” said Mary Hodges.
“Hermione does everything right,” said Adam, managing to make it sound like a character flaw.
“Is she for sale?” asked Mary Hodges.
Adam looked at Mary Hodges carefully, in a way he deliberately did not look at people very often. He nodded, satisfied with what he saw.
“Free to a good home,” he said. “D’you want to take her now.”
“No. I’ll collect her later. Say at five,” said Mary Hodges. “What was your address?”
Adam gave it and then watched her drive off. He looked down at Hermione.
“Did you like her, Herm?” he asked.
Hermione wagged her tail and barked.
Adam nodded. “That’s all right then.”
Back outside Jasmine Cottage Anathema and Dog were waiting for him.
“Everyone’s inside,” said Anathema. “Come in and I’ll get you some lemonade.”
Dog, as usual, growled at the doorway and then slunk over the step.
“The black puppy had to be dragged through,” Anathema remarked. “I did tell Pepper she could leave it outside.”
“They have to be trained,” said Adam, firmly. “Harry ‘specially.”
Sirius entered Jasmine Cottage with no trouble at all. Once inside he trotted up to Shadwell and deposited the firelighter in his lap.
“What a sweetie,” said Madam Tracey rubbing his ears. Sirius immediately lay his head in her lap and, despite his size, succeeded in looking completely soppy. Anathema came over to give Adam his lemonade.
“Did you come over for anything in particular?” she asked Adam.
“I was hoping you might want a dog,” said Adam, looking as innocently hopeful as he could manage. Anathema smiled and looked over at Newt, who had Sybil on his lap. Their eyes met and then Anathema looked back at Adam.
“We could keep the grey one, I suppose. Sybil, wasn’t it?” she said.
“Yes. The black one’s Sirius,” he added looking at Shadwell and Madam Tracey.
“After the Dog Star,” said Madam Tracey. “What a lovely idea. We could keep him, couldn’t we Mr S. He’s such a love.”
“Weell, I s’pose,” said Shadwell.
“What do you think, Sybil, Sirius?” said Adam.
Sirius put his paw on Madam Tracey’s knee and Sybil burrowed into Newt’s armpit.
“That’s settled then,” said Adam.
“That’s three of them with homes,” he remarked later as the Them walked home. “But what about Harry?”
The Them looked dubiously at Harry, who was managing to walk and untie Wensleydale's shoelaces at the same time.
“I reckon you’d have to be a saint to want to look after him,” said Brian.
Adam looked very thoughtful.
A few days later Crowley opened the door to Aziraphale's bookstore and was surprised to be narrowly missed by a bolt of lightening. He did not think he had done anything that bad recently.
“Huh?” he said, blinking away the afterimages.
“Sorry, my dear,” said Aziraphale. “ I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t? Then who were you smiting?”
A small black puppy poked its nose out from behind a bookcase.
“You were smiting a puppy?” said Crowley.
“Not smiting,” said Aziraphale, looking guilty. “I was aiming to miss.”
“But why?”
“Because that - that thing has eaten ‘The Importance of Being Ernest,’” said Aziraphale, wringing his hands. “It isn’t funny, Crowley. It was a first edition. In brown leather.”
Crowley sat down on an unopened box of books and leant back against the wall. “Why do you have a puppy in the first place?” he asked.
“I didn’t want one, it just - read this.”
Crowley took the piece of paper that had been thrust into his had and read it. It said:
Dear Aziraphale,
I hope you are well. This puppy is called Harry. He needs a home and since angels love all living things I have sent him to you.
Yours truly, Adam Young.
Crowley leant back against the wall laughing. He felt the small nose thrust into his pocket just in time to grab the puppy, which was holding his car keys. He wrestled them away from it and found himself being licked on the nose. It was a strange experience; most animals either attacked him or ran away from him. He could not remember one liking him before.** Harry stopped licking him in favour of grabbing his sunglasses and running under a bookcase. Crowley bent down on hands and knees and managed to grab one end of the sunglasses only to find himself engaged in a tug of war.
“Adam’s sent you a bloody kleptomaniac,” he remarked.
“He is part hellhound I suppose,” said Aziraphale, who was sounding calmer now and amused in his turn. “Possibly he would make a more suitable pet for you than for me.”
Crowley opened his mouth to say something withering, then changed his mind. The puppy was rather sweet after all, and it seemed to like him.
“All right. But you help train it. And you can begin by helping me get my sunglasses back.”
The next day Adam received a letter. It read:
Dear Adam Young,
Angels only love all living things when they have not just eaten a Wilde first edition. Harry is currently taking refuge from divine wrath in my flat and has washed down ‘The Importance of Being Ernest’ with ‘Wizard’s First Rule’. He has also started a vendetta against the ducks in St James’ Park.
Yours truly, A.J. Crowley.
“Good news?” asked Pepper.
“Harry’s found a home,” said Adam.
“That’s good,” said Brian. “D’you think they’re all all right?”
Adam closed his eyes and for a moment allowed his senses to expand. Mary Hodges was on the telephone. She put her hand over the receiver and said, “Hermione, give me the folder for the Polytechnology Group.” Hermione trotted over with the correct file and stayed to have her ears stroked while Mary Hodges continued her conversation.
Sybil was sitting in Anathema’s lap while Anathema and Newt read the newspapers. It took a long time to get through them all but neither of them had been able to break the habit. It made for a peaceful domestic scene, if a rather unusual one.
Madam Tracey was giving a reading while Sirius lurked in the corner like a death omen, adding to the ambience considerably. He was thinking of nothing more sinister than biscuits, which he knew Madam Tracey had in the cupboard and would give him later.
Harry was chasing ducks, egged on by Crowley. Aziraphale scolded them both indiscriminately and fairly uselessly. Adam opened his eyes.
“They’re all fine,” he said. “They’re happy.”
“That’s okay then,” said Pepper.
Dog barked agreement. He was already looking forward to the next time Shutzi came into heat.
*Madam Tracy had pointed out that taking firelighters with him when visiting Anathema was hardly tactful, but he was adamant. He might not actually do anything about Anathema, but for the honour of the witchfinder army he ought to be able to.
**Apart from the ducks in St James’ Park. Despite Crowley occasionally dunking them they liked anyone with bread.
Homes Wanted
“…an’ Dad says I’ve got to find homes for them,” finished Adam.
The Them turned their attention to the puppies in the middle of the floor. Hellhound, terrier and poodle genetics had combined to create four very different dogs. There was Hermione, a brownish terrier who seemed to have been born fully trained, Sirius, a huge and black, but extremely friendly, dog, Sybil, a grey bug-eyed puppy who seemed to have inherited all her mother’s poodle genes, and Harry, a black scruffy mongrel with a growl bigger than his body and eyes which glowed red when he was upset. Dog was regarding them with slightly embarrassed pride. He knew he was in trouble and, more importantly, had caused trouble for his Master but he was still hopelessly pleased with himself. He had put a lot of effort into his relationship with Shutzi.
“Who d’you reckon will take them?” asked Pepper.
“I thought maybe you three…” began Adam. But the Them were shaking their heads.
“My Dad’ll never let me,” said Wensleydale.
“Sorry, Adam,” said Pepper. “Maybe Newt and Anathema’d like one.”
“She can’t,” said Brian. “Witches have to have cats.”
“I don’t see why,” said Adam.
“It’s prob’ly cause of the broomsticks,” said Brian. “They have to sit on them. A dog would fall off.”
“Anathema doesn’t have a broomstick,” said Wensleydale.
“Right, and a dog could sit on it anyway. Harry was sitting on the arm of the sofa earlier,” said Adam.
“You shouldn’t let him on the furniture,” said Wensleydale.
Adam shrugged, unwilling to admit that Harry simply ignored anything he said. He had never had this trouble training Dog.
“Let’s go to Jasmine Cottage,” he said. “It can’t hurt to try.”
It was a nice day for a walk, although Harry seemed to be of the opinion that dog walking is akin to maypole dancing, i.e. the idea is to wind in and out of other people gradually decreasing the length of the lead. They eventually managed by having Pepper walk Harry, and Adam walk the other three, with Pepper walking on the opposite side of the road to Adam. As they reached Jasmine Cottage they realised they were not the only people headed there. A plump middle-aged woman and a man dressed in what could only be an old mackintosh were headed there as well.
“Hello, Shadwell. Hello, Madam Tracey,” called Adam, cheerfully.
“Hullo, love,” said Madam Tracey.
“Hellooo, and whut’re you doin’ here?” demanded Shadwell.
A car roared past, startling the puppies. Sybil yelped and Harry growled, his eyes flashing red.
“Spawn o’ the devil,” yelled Shadwell, flinging a firelighter* at Harry and hitting the car instead.
Sirius, who thought he knew what you were supposed to do when people threw things, pulled his lead free and took off after the firelighter. Sybil, whose lead had also come free, ran into Jasmine Cottage and cowered under the sofa until she was coaxed out by Newt. Harry stayed where he was, still growling and Hermione looked faintly disapproving.
“Don’t be silly, Mr S,” said Madam Tracey. “It was just a trick of the light.”
“I know whut I saw, wumman, no nat’ral thing has glow’n eyes.”
Adam heard the car screech to a halt. He dropped Hermione’s lead and ran after Sirius. He found him standing in the road with the firelighter in his mouth. An extremely vexed woman in black was staring at him. Contrary to what Crowley had once said, Adam remembered her.
“Hello, Sister Mary,” he said.
“Mary Hodges,” said the woman, looking distracted. Then her expression hardened as she picked up her train of thought. “Do you know what this dog has done? First it leaps onto the bonnet of my car, then when I get out it leaps into me. It nearly caused a serious accident and it made me drop my car keys,” she snapped.
“He’s only a puppy. You can’t blame a puppy for jumpin’ at you. He was bein’ friendly I ‘spect,” said Adam.
“He should be better trained. Although if you help me find my car keys I’ll say no more about it. I have to be at an important meeting in twenty minutes.”
A polite bark made them both look down. Hermione was sitting there with the car keys between her front paws.
“What a smart dog. And much better behaved than the other one,” said Mary Hodges.
“Hermione does everything right,” said Adam, managing to make it sound like a character flaw.
“Is she for sale?” asked Mary Hodges.
Adam looked at Mary Hodges carefully, in a way he deliberately did not look at people very often. He nodded, satisfied with what he saw.
“Free to a good home,” he said. “D’you want to take her now.”
“No. I’ll collect her later. Say at five,” said Mary Hodges. “What was your address?”
Adam gave it and then watched her drive off. He looked down at Hermione.
“Did you like her, Herm?” he asked.
Hermione wagged her tail and barked.
Adam nodded. “That’s all right then.”
Back outside Jasmine Cottage Anathema and Dog were waiting for him.
“Everyone’s inside,” said Anathema. “Come in and I’ll get you some lemonade.”
Dog, as usual, growled at the doorway and then slunk over the step.
“The black puppy had to be dragged through,” Anathema remarked. “I did tell Pepper she could leave it outside.”
“They have to be trained,” said Adam, firmly. “Harry ‘specially.”
Sirius entered Jasmine Cottage with no trouble at all. Once inside he trotted up to Shadwell and deposited the firelighter in his lap.
“What a sweetie,” said Madam Tracey rubbing his ears. Sirius immediately lay his head in her lap and, despite his size, succeeded in looking completely soppy. Anathema came over to give Adam his lemonade.
“Did you come over for anything in particular?” she asked Adam.
“I was hoping you might want a dog,” said Adam, looking as innocently hopeful as he could manage. Anathema smiled and looked over at Newt, who had Sybil on his lap. Their eyes met and then Anathema looked back at Adam.
“We could keep the grey one, I suppose. Sybil, wasn’t it?” she said.
“Yes. The black one’s Sirius,” he added looking at Shadwell and Madam Tracey.
“After the Dog Star,” said Madam Tracey. “What a lovely idea. We could keep him, couldn’t we Mr S. He’s such a love.”
“Weell, I s’pose,” said Shadwell.
“What do you think, Sybil, Sirius?” said Adam.
Sirius put his paw on Madam Tracey’s knee and Sybil burrowed into Newt’s armpit.
“That’s settled then,” said Adam.
“That’s three of them with homes,” he remarked later as the Them walked home. “But what about Harry?”
The Them looked dubiously at Harry, who was managing to walk and untie Wensleydale's shoelaces at the same time.
“I reckon you’d have to be a saint to want to look after him,” said Brian.
Adam looked very thoughtful.
A few days later Crowley opened the door to Aziraphale's bookstore and was surprised to be narrowly missed by a bolt of lightening. He did not think he had done anything that bad recently.
“Huh?” he said, blinking away the afterimages.
“Sorry, my dear,” said Aziraphale. “ I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t? Then who were you smiting?”
A small black puppy poked its nose out from behind a bookcase.
“You were smiting a puppy?” said Crowley.
“Not smiting,” said Aziraphale, looking guilty. “I was aiming to miss.”
“But why?”
“Because that - that thing has eaten ‘The Importance of Being Ernest,’” said Aziraphale, wringing his hands. “It isn’t funny, Crowley. It was a first edition. In brown leather.”
Crowley sat down on an unopened box of books and leant back against the wall. “Why do you have a puppy in the first place?” he asked.
“I didn’t want one, it just - read this.”
Crowley took the piece of paper that had been thrust into his had and read it. It said:
Dear Aziraphale,
I hope you are well. This puppy is called Harry. He needs a home and since angels love all living things I have sent him to you.
Yours truly, Adam Young.
Crowley leant back against the wall laughing. He felt the small nose thrust into his pocket just in time to grab the puppy, which was holding his car keys. He wrestled them away from it and found himself being licked on the nose. It was a strange experience; most animals either attacked him or ran away from him. He could not remember one liking him before.** Harry stopped licking him in favour of grabbing his sunglasses and running under a bookcase. Crowley bent down on hands and knees and managed to grab one end of the sunglasses only to find himself engaged in a tug of war.
“Adam’s sent you a bloody kleptomaniac,” he remarked.
“He is part hellhound I suppose,” said Aziraphale, who was sounding calmer now and amused in his turn. “Possibly he would make a more suitable pet for you than for me.”
Crowley opened his mouth to say something withering, then changed his mind. The puppy was rather sweet after all, and it seemed to like him.
“All right. But you help train it. And you can begin by helping me get my sunglasses back.”
The next day Adam received a letter. It read:
Dear Adam Young,
Angels only love all living things when they have not just eaten a Wilde first edition. Harry is currently taking refuge from divine wrath in my flat and has washed down ‘The Importance of Being Ernest’ with ‘Wizard’s First Rule’. He has also started a vendetta against the ducks in St James’ Park.
Yours truly, A.J. Crowley.
“Good news?” asked Pepper.
“Harry’s found a home,” said Adam.
“That’s good,” said Brian. “D’you think they’re all all right?”
Adam closed his eyes and for a moment allowed his senses to expand. Mary Hodges was on the telephone. She put her hand over the receiver and said, “Hermione, give me the folder for the Polytechnology Group.” Hermione trotted over with the correct file and stayed to have her ears stroked while Mary Hodges continued her conversation.
Sybil was sitting in Anathema’s lap while Anathema and Newt read the newspapers. It took a long time to get through them all but neither of them had been able to break the habit. It made for a peaceful domestic scene, if a rather unusual one.
Madam Tracey was giving a reading while Sirius lurked in the corner like a death omen, adding to the ambience considerably. He was thinking of nothing more sinister than biscuits, which he knew Madam Tracey had in the cupboard and would give him later.
Harry was chasing ducks, egged on by Crowley. Aziraphale scolded them both indiscriminately and fairly uselessly. Adam opened his eyes.
“They’re all fine,” he said. “They’re happy.”
“That’s okay then,” said Pepper.
Dog barked agreement. He was already looking forward to the next time Shutzi came into heat.
*Madam Tracy had pointed out that taking firelighters with him when visiting Anathema was hardly tactful, but he was adamant. He might not actually do anything about Anathema, but for the honour of the witchfinder army he ought to be able to.
**Apart from the ducks in St James’ Park. Despite Crowley occasionally dunking them they liked anyone with bread.