Mulch- Speaking to Dogs

  Mulch only had one card left to play. The gift of tongues. Every fairy has a natural grasp of languages, since all tongues are based on Gnommish if you trace them back far enough. Including American Dog.

  “Arf,” grunted Mulch. “Arf, rrruff rruff.”

  The dogs froze. One attempted to freeze in midleap, landing on his partner. They chewed each other’s tails for a moment, then remembered that there was a creature on the ceiling barking at them. His accent was terrible, something Central European. But it was Dog nevertheless.

  “Aroof?” inquired dog number one.

  Mulch pointed at the handler.

  “Woof arfy arrooof! That human has a big bone inside his shirt,” he grunted. (Obviously, that’s a translation.)

  The German shepherds pounced on their handler; Mulch scampered through the hole in the window; and Maggie V howled so much that her mask cracked and her tea bags fell off. And even though the Grouch knew that this particular chapter in his career was closed, the weight of Maggie V’s Academy Award inside his shirt gave him no little satisfaction.

-The Arctic Incident, Chapter 11