Flash fiction is an umbrella term used to describe any fictional work of extreme brevity, including the Six-Word Story, 140-character stories, also known as twitterature, the dribble (50 words), the drabble (100 words), and sudden fiction (750 words)
The sound of the fridge door being yanked open was followed by the sound of paper rustling. She heard it from where she was sleeping in the sun in the farthest corner of the lawn. It was time for the postwoman to come and she didn’t want to miss her belly-rubs.
Then came the call. It rang out crystal clear in mom’s sweet voice.
What a name for a dog. Kiwi. A fruit! No wonder Harmony and Horace snorted whenever mom called her name. She was glad they were away with dad on an all day trek. It was just mom and her at home for the rest of the day. She once heard dad tell a guest that Harmony and Horace were purebreds. They discussed lineage and all. Illustrious, that’s what they said it was.
Mom always talked while brushing her. One day mom told her that she had the traits of two different breeds, the messed up unruly hair was from one and her temperament, whatever that was, was from another. That practically made her a mutt. Not that it mattered so long as Mom loved her. But why oh why did Mom have to name her Kiwi?
Sigh… she knew why. And she knew she should actually be happy about it.
Mom loved the fruit (which actually meant mom loved her too!). Well, loved was an understatement in this case. Mom was crazy about kiwis. Whenever it was in season she bought truckloads of it. Okay, may be not truckloads, but definitely boxes and boxes of it. And when it was not in season? Mom still bought them. Never mind if she had to pay more.
She had tried them too when mom offered her some and it was sort of okay. Nothing great, nothing earth-shattering. Not like the treats mom kept in the multi-colored containers in the cupboard in the kitchen which made her bottom wiggle involuntarily when their smell reached her nose. Her tail too swished this way and that with such speed in spite of herself. They were what she called irresistible. Her favorite were the ones in smoked salmon flavor. And for that Harmony and Horace laughed at her and called her a cat. She couldn’t care less. A treat was a treat was a treat!
“Kiwiiiiiiiii! Where are you?”
“Comin, mummyyyy!” She gave little yelps as she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Across the lawn and in through the door of the kitchen to where mom stood.
“Come here, girl. Come and see what mom has got for you!”
“Treat, mommy? Treat mommy?”
She jumped up and down in excitement, then rushed to the cupboard with the treats in the multicolored containers. Would mom give her the smoked salmon-flavored one? She sat down (like a good girl) and waited.
“Kiwi! What are you doing over there? Come here!”
Eh? Where? There? No treat from multi-colored containers? What was happening? Mom was scooping something out of a tub and eating. Kiwi got up and went to stand next to mom.
“Look, Kiwi! Look what mommy got for us!!”
She looked doubtfully at mom. Ice-cream? No salmon-flavored treats? Oh well. She’d better take whatever was available. Ice cream wasn’t too bad. Mom dug her spoon in and took out a scoop and offered it to her. Delicately she started licking the ice-cream off the spoon. Mmmm… not bad. Mmm… not bad at all. Mmmm… it WAS tasty. She thought she heard mom say something about eating kiwi ice-cream, or was it Kiwi eating ice-cream? There was a difference, she knew, but right then it didn’t matter.
©Shail Mohan 2018