The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Unused scene: Dog Training (rough draft)
A/N: So, I don't know if I can work Sad Poop into the main story, and I didn't get to do anything with her in the foster care route, so this one-shot is basically just me giving Sad Poop the chance she ought to have had. I threw in Ace because this fic doesn't match anything else in the TBWSverse anyway, so why not. XD
o.o.o
Alfred stared at the message on his phone for a moment. Then he closed his eyes in fond exasperation before finishing his preparations for the day and heading out of his suite.
The first stop was the Batcave, where he let the cow out to graze and then went to look at the dog crate Bruce had informed him about. Inside, lying near the back with her chin resting on her front paws, was a small, dirty, pathetic-looking creature that smelled like her own waste. As soon as she realized she was being watched, she struggled to her feet and started barking frantically.
"Now, calm down. No one is going to hurt you, young miss." He withdrew, leaving the crate door open and a bit of food sitting invitingly on the floor nearby. He puttered around the cave, finding things to dust or tidy, until he noticed the animal cautiously venturing out, swallowing the food, then looking around, trembling.
Alfred continued his work, checking on the dog out of the corner of his eye. When she hesitantly started to explore, he readied a bath, then approached her with soft footsteps and more food in his palm. She squirmed unhappily when he picked her up, but didn't fight too hard. When he set her in the warm bath, she stood still, trembling.
A minute later, there was a bird-like cry of pleased surprise at the threshold of the bathroom, and Alfred had to be quick to prevent the dog from leaping out of the little tub.
"Found them~!" Dick announced triumphantly. John and Jack peered curiously around him; Peter was already galloping into the bathroom, grabbily checking over his dog as he babbled to her in a mixture of bird language and broken English.
"Master Peter, your young miss needs to finish her bath."
"Here, Petey," Dick offered, crouching down beside him, "I'll hold her, and you pet her and distract her from the bath, okay?"
By the time the dog was lifted out of the tub, she looked a little traumatized but was now clean and snowy white, her fur soft and fluffy once she had been dried off. Peter refused to move and just sat there on the bathroom floor, holding her and petting her and chatting to her and sharing his breakfast with her from the plate Alfred had set down next to him at one point. At last, the little dog climbed to her feet and started licking Peter's neck and cheeks, no longer shivering. He giggled and stood up as well, calling to her with a bird sound as he galloped out of the bathroom. Alarmed, she raced to catch up.
Upstairs, the rest of the family gathered around to investigate the newest addition to the household. She shied away from all the stroking hands and jumped when Ace bumped her with his nose. She slunk to hide behind Peter, who screeched and waved his arms to fend everyone off.
"Okay, okay, we'll keep our distance," Duke acquiesced. "What are you going to name your dog, Peter?"
Peter cocked his head.
"What's her name?"
"Sad Poop."
Everyone burst into laughter. "Did he say 'Sad Poop'...?!"
"Her name, Peter," Dick chuckled. "What are you going to call her?"
"Sad Poop!" the boy repeated impatiently.
"I'm not calling her that," Bruce said at once, echoed by Alfred's "Heavens, no."
"It's an entirely unsuitable name for an animal!" Damian insisted. Cassandra and the other two birds, uninterested in the conversation, were cooing at the dog, trying to convince her they weren't dangerous, while Duke caressed Ace so that the bigger dog wouldn't get jealous of all the attention being paid to the newcomer.
"We could just call her S.P.," Tim suggested.
"A dog should have a good name," Damian went on. "She shall be called Anastasia."
"Damian, you can't name other people's dogs," Tim said in annoyance.
Damian made a point to call the dog Anastasia for about a week, but eventually realized that it was a modification of the original name that had really stuck.
"Espy, sit." Bruce loved dogs, but he hated training them. He couldn't expect Peter to do most of it, though, and Alfred had been busier than usual this week, so here he was in the kitchen on a Saturday morning, trying to get two uncooperative animals to obey him. "Sit. Espy, sit."
She simply edged away a few steps as she stared up at him.
"If you don't sit, you do not get a treat. Ace, come here!" The dog, investigating the floor under a chair where one of the birds had dropped a bit of breakfast earlier, acted like he hadn't even heard. "Ace, come! I have food here, Alfred already swept up the food you're smelling."
Still no response. Exasperated, Bruce stepped toward the entryway and called out, "Titus! Titus, come!"
A minute later, the sound of a jingling collar approached, and the Great Dane loped into the kitchen. "Good boy." Bruce slipped him a treat. "Come here, Titus. Over here." He pointed, and the dog ambled over to the spot. "Good. Okay." He checked to see if the other dogs were watching. Espy was from the corner she'd backed into; Ace still was not. "ACE!"
The dog flinched, then belatedly glanced over, ready at any moment to return to foraging.
"Titus, sit," Bruce said hurriedly, while he still had Ace's attention. Titus sat on the floor. "Good boy! Good boy! Titus sat down when I asked, so Titus gets a treat. Good boy! Good sitting!"
Ace was now staring, his head raised and his ears perked in interest.
"Ace, your turn! Sit!"
The German Shepherd bounded over to him and hopped eagerly.
"No, Ace, sit. Sit!"
The dog pranced, trying to get at the treat.
"No." Bruce had to push him away with his knee. "You don't get this until you sit." It wasn't until he lost his patience and bellowed, "NO, ACE, BAD DOG," that the German Shepherd finally froze, staring. Titus whined a little and hunched down, and Espy started letting out terrified little barks. "Oh, for God's sake- Espy. Ssshh, it's okay. I'm not angry," he crooned.
He took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's try this again. Titus, come. Heel." He made a circuit around the kitchen with Titus obediently pacing at his side. Espy hurriedly scrambled out of their way when they got close, but she and Ace were both staring intently. "Good," Bruce said when they'd circled back. "Good boy, Titus." He fed the dog a treat. "Now, Titus, sit." The dog sat, and was once more rewarded. Ace rushed forward and was rebuffed again. He stared at Bruce's knee in exasperation.
"Okay," Bruce said, forcing himself to be patient and speak very clearly. "Let's try this again. Ace, sit."
Ace stared at him like he was trying very hard to read Bruce's mind. It was Peter who hurried up and plopped onto his bottom on the floor, then stared up at Bruce expectantly.
Bruce stared back, nonplussed.
"Ggoo'd bboy!" Peter prompted, raising an arm to make a grabby hand for the treat he was clearly expecting.
"Peter- Peter, this is for the dogs."
"GGOOD BBOY! Ssi'tt!"
Bruce facepalmed. "For crying out loud..."
A few minutes later, Dick wandered into the kitchen, wondering why Peter had been gone for so long, then stopped and stared. He broke into a grin and pulled out his phone to start filming.
"Ace, sit." The German Shepherd waaaarily lowered, and the instant his butt touched the floor, Bruce hurriedly fed him a treat before he could immediately bounce back up again like he tended to keep doing. "Espy, sit." The dog didn't move, but Peter pushed her down into more or less the right position, and Bruce gave her a treat, hoping she would eventually get the idea. "Titus, sit," he said, just because it didn't seem fair to leave him out even though the Great Dane didn't need the lesson. "Good boy. Peter, sign 'president.'" The boy obeyed immediately, delighted at both getting to try out the new ASL vocabulary Bruce had been taking the opportunity to teach him, and at the grape he was given as a reward. "Good boy."
"Good boy," Peter echoed with his hands.
"All right, again. Ace, sit...!"