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The Dog that Spoke Spanish

Thank goodness she chose pets over children.

“The dog who spoke Spanish”

Marisa Kuzentzov's sun-spotted hand curled around the large metal dog bowl, filled with discount kibble and chicken livers.

In front of her, the tall, spindly greyhound sprung up and down on his front legs like a bouncy ride at the state fair.

“Diego Luis! Calmate!” The woman commanded like one would scolding a grandchild rummaging through a freezer for ice cream. 

Thank goodness she chose dogs over children.

The brown and white sight-hound paused and his ears went up like satelite dishes on each side of his head. Such an expressive animal with his dark, doe-like eyes. She knew better than to be fooled by his innocent act. She had one time come home from her romance novel workshop to see he had eaten an entire spice cake her paramour rupert had left her for as a surprise.

Diego Luis' stomach was so distended, if he was female she'd think him pregnant. She told Rupert that the cak was 'greatly enjoyed'

Then she really would be a grandma. 

“Here you go, la cena esta servida.” Marisa placed his metal bowl in it's usual spot near the side door of her outdated kitchen and Diego Luis wasted no time inhaling kibble and liver like a dyson.

The grey tabby cat perched on the bookshelf near the entry to the kitchen leapt off and fled.

“Ta chi de tai kuai a/he eats too fast.” Marisa said to YingHui, the disgusted female tabby cat.

Marisa took a seat on an Ikea kitchen stool and sighed hard, leaning against the counter, listening to the crunch of Diego chomping away at his dinner. She made a mental list to check on her little black pug, Jean Claude, upstairs. He just came back from the vet with an ear infection and she had to give him his drops in....vingt cinq minutes.

Just thinking of that vet appointment made her headache flare back to life in her skull like rocks in her shoe. Her usual vet, Dr Singh, was on vacation which had given her an instant headache. 

Her migraine raged because she had to deal with a replacement vet who talked down to her like she was a child when she very calmly, very patiently, explained that Jean Claude only spoke French, so she'd have to talk to him in French, and Diego only spoke Spanish on the occasion some Italian from his Italian Greyhound ancestry.

Only Dr Singh actually believed her that all three of her pets spoke different languages. She even believed, Rupert, the man she was currently courting only humored her when she'd coax YingHui out from under the bed with Teresa Teng songs, or explain to her picky calico cat, Branka, in Serbian that they were out of her favorite cat food.

It wasn't her fault really that all four of her pets spoke a different language. She understood how they felt, coming to America with a thickly Russian accented English had not made her any friends straight away. She had felt like an invisible barrade had been painted between her and most everyone else in the small town of Vermont she had escaped to. She hadn't made a true friend until she volunteered once at the montpelier SPCA and heard her first adoptee, Branka the calico kitten, yowl out in Serbian that she was so cold, and so scared.

She scooped her up immediately, and returned to the SPCA monthly.

Whenever she heard that a particular cat or dog hadn't been adopted for seemingly mysterious reasons, she'd go and see, yes, they weren't speaking  'English' cat and dog. Unfortunately for her, none of her other three spoke a language she already spoke.

That's how she ended up with Branka, Jean Claude, Ying Hui, and her latest addition, Diego Luis. She had to use the money she was saving up on an editor for her newest romance novel on beginner Spanish lessons.

Diego begun to finish his bowl, and she checked her watch, she still had quatorze minute until she had to give Jean Claude his ear drops.

“No tienes modales en la mesa.” Marisa chided Diego Luis as he licked his long nose. 

She reached out scratched his behind just like he liked.

“lo siento mama. Gracias para cenar.” Diego shook out his big ears and pointed to the door. 

He's so needy. She thought to herself as she eased off the stool, opening the door for Diego to go out and run about.

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