Gerty and the Doesn't-Smell-Like-a-Melon
Mary E. Lowd
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Copyright © 2010 by Mary E. Lowd
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Gerty had been snuffle-snorting about the melon patches all morning. She was looking for Little People to play with, but all the bugs and mice seemed to be hiding today. Dormancy was in the air.
She tried asking a bird to play with her, but it was so high in the branches of the karillow tree that she had to shout at it. And the master scolded her for barking. The bird flew away anyway. They always did.
So, Gerty gave up her search and scratched out a comfortable spot under the karillow tree. She napped and dozed, keeping her ears tuned for the voice of the master. When he spoke, she woke.
"Damned converter!" he shouted, and Gerty knew he was working on the vehicle parked beside the house. She was proud; her master was handy.
"Does the sky know what I know?" he sang, and Gerty knew he had moved inside, his voice carrying through an open window as he washed the dishes. She was proud; her master's voice was beautiful. She drowsed to sleep again.