OK, so here's a story I randomly came up with amidst my boredom. It's kinda bad, but I felt like writing something.

Prompt: Poodles

Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint, but Magpie is mine :)


The front door swung open as a weary Greg Parker stumbled through at around six o'clock after a both physically and mentally exhausting shift. Totally drained of all energy, he kicked his shoes off to the side and flopped on to the couch, tuning into the local news station to catch up on recent events. The offbeat clicking of claws caught his attention and he turned to see a large black dog come limping strenuously into the living room.

Greg buried his hands in the coarse curls of his companion, Magpie, the only one who had remained true to him after everything he had gone through in the past ten years. That was the beauty of dogs; no matter how much you screwed up, or how much people hated you, in the eyes of a dog, you were their hero, you could do no wrong.

Magpie, affectionately known by the team as Menacing Magster, was a fourteen-year-old Standard Poodle that Greg had given to his son as a birthday present when he was four years old. The look on Dean's face when Greg presented him with the squirming ball of black curls was enough to make him weep as he remembered what Dean had first said after getting over his initial shock. 'I love you, Daddy'.

Greg cringed. Dean was heartbroken when his mother refused to bring his best friend along with them when they left, leaving her with Greg to live out the rest of her days. Even now, when Greg looked into her doe brown eyes he could still see the frisky puppy that used to chase Dean around the backyard and shred the Sunday paper every weekend.

This dog was not just a dog. He and Magpie were bound to live their lonely lives together, both missing the most precious thing they had ever known each and every day. They were alike that way. Greg could tell that she missed him. In the weak and arthritic state she was in, she would always stare longingly at happy children who passed by, and would give her greatest attempt to play with them, only to be subdued by her age and giving up with a sigh of defeat.

Magpie settled at Greg's feet, her nose twitching every so often when she scented something unfamiliar. Greg reached down and patted her affectionately. "We're gettin' old, girl," he said, Magpie replying with a faint whimper.

Greg pulled his feet out from under the dog and rested them up on the couch, watching the rise and fall of Magpie's chest and admiring her wise old face that had seen so much pain throughout her life. He laid his head back and began to doze off, lulled by the distant hum of the television and Magpie's heavy panting.

A few short hours later he awoke, becoming aware of the fact that he had not yet fed the dog, or himself, for that matter. As he scooped Purina Dog chow into a stainless steel bowl and heated up some lasagna, he noticed that Magpie did not come rushing ravenously like she usually did. He went and stood in the doorway seeing Magpie's graying muzzle peeking out from behind the coffee table.

Greg meandered over and crouched by his dog, stroking her to wake her up, but Magpie remained still. His heart stopped. Her tail did not thump. Her panting had ceased.

Greg wiped a tear from his eye, trying to convince himself that this was not really happening. "Oh, Mags," he choked out, taking her large limp body to rest in his lap, unable to keep the tears from flooding down his face. His faithful old friend was gone. The last thing of his son's he had left to cherish.

For eight years, Gregory Parker had felt lonely, but now he truly was alone.


Well, that was pretty bad. I meant for it to be depressing, but that didn't work too well. Oh well. Tell me what you think. Peace :)