Man's Best Friend. Not a particularly original title but it works. I thought of this little fic after I read Making Money. Reading the book is not necessary, you just need to know that Mr Fusspot is a dog.
disclaimer: i don't own discworld.
Moreso was a young stable hand who had recently gotten a job at a small place a few buildings down from Pseudopolis Yard, the city watch headquarters. As he got to work cleaning out the stables he began to whistle. Moreso was a simple lad, coming from the mountainous country of Lancre.
When he was cleaning out the second to last stall he smelt a horrible stench. At first he tried to cover it by breathing in the, in his opinion, more pleasant smell of horse dung, but to no avail. Eventually he decided to investigate, an activity that he was normally against.
Poking his head over the gate of the last stall he met the sight of a dead dog, which quickly shook his hand and went on its way. The manager who had arrived ten minutes ago was immediately fetched.
Since Moreso was surprised, and horrified, by the sight of the corpse he had failed to notice the small puppy that was sitting beside it. The manager on the other hand didn't, he was an altogether more observant man and no stranger to all corpses, big or small. Entering the stall he picked up the small bundle of fluff by the scruff and handed it to Moreso.
"Here, go find a sack and throw the Mut in the river," he commanded.
"But… but… what if someone owns him?" Moreso asked trying to find an excuse.
"He's got no collar and neither does this one," the manager said prodding the corpse with his foot, "and they ain't ours."
"But…"
"Go! And when you've done that you can get rid of the corpse too."
The manager stalked away back to his office, possibly to go back to sleep. The boy stood hesitantly, trying not to look at the furry animal that was currently licking his hand. He really liked animals especially small fluffy baby ones, but he also needed his job. So with a heavy heart he searched around for a sack, finding none he eventually ended up asking passers by on the street.
He didn't seriously think that anyone would conveniently be carrying around a sack that they would willingly give away to some random in the street. He knew he was doing it just so he could put off the inevitable.
Looking at his feet he asked the other pair of feet who had stopped in front of him if they had a sack.
"No I don't believe I do," came the calm reply from somewhere higher up.
Realising that he was in the way Moreso looked up to apologise but immediately wished he hadn't for standing in front of him was none other than the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork himself.
...
The Patrician's solid black carriage stopped in front of Pseudopolis Yard. it was turning out to be a fine day for Vetinari, he'd finished all his morning paperwork, thwarted another attempt at a coup and was now going to increase Vimes' blood pressure.
Almost as soon as he stepped out of the carriage he was confronted by a young lad asking his feet if they had a sack. Replying that he didn't the boy looked up and stood gaping at him in shock (perhaps horror would fit the description better). It was then that the Patrician noticed a small fluffy puppy held in the boy's grasp.
"Oh you have a puppy, may I see?" the boy handed it to him slowly, like his body realised that the mind was in a state of inactivity and decided that it enjoyed life too much to wait for a response. He held the small animal in his arms and smiled when it licked his hand. The boy who stood fidgeting started to ramble on, if only to fill the silence and make him self feel better.
"I just found him this morning, I work in the stables just down there, he was next to a dead dog… I have to get rid of it, the dog as well, I don't want to… the manager said I had to get a sack and throw it in the ankh…"
The last sentence caught Vetinari's attention.
"Sorry?" he asked.
The boy hesitated in nervousness.
"I have to throw the Ankh in a sack."
He seemed to realise that the sentence didn't really make sense.
"I have to put it in a sack and throw it in the Ankh," he corrected himself.
"The puppy?" Vetinari asked.
"Yes," the boy mumbled in reply.
Vetinari stood staring at the boy with a look of complete horror on his face, which for Vetinari was mouth slightly open and eyebrows raised. Clutching the puppy to his chest he promptly walked away into Pseudopolis Yard, leaving Moreso feeling like he'd just signed his death warrant.
...
In the carriage on the way back to the palace Vetinari introduced Mr Fusspot to the small puppy. The dog gave a small "wuff" of approval and then fell to sleep on the other seat, snoring loudly.
As the puppy chewed on his thumb Vetinari decided that it didn't belong to any particular breed that he could think of. The puppy shivered and he noticed that it was quite cold despite it supposedly being the middle of spring. He tucked the puppy inside his jacket where is snuggled up closer to the warmth of his chest.
He tried to consider some more names for it. Some of the watchmen had suggested some names that might fit.
He quite liked the suggestion of calling it Samuel.
I want a pug. I already have a dog but he annoys me, so I want a Pug who will jump over Random Small Obstacles, Waddle along after me and Generally Exist.
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