💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › bran captured on 2020-10-31 at 02:13:47.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
BRANDED by John R. Hillman, Jr. He walked into the pet store as quietly as possible, but the bell over the door game him away with its loud ring. The store owner looked up from his magazine as the man walked over to the racks containing puppies and kittens. When the owner saw the man standing there, hands in his coat pockets, he relaxed and went back to the article. The man looked at the small animals with longing. He peered out from under the brim of his low hat, almost pressed up against the cages. He smiled as a kitten hooked the brim of the hat in its needle-like claws and he gently released the paw from the felt. "May I help you?" the owner asked, putting down the magazine. The man had been just standing there for too long. Time to buy or leave. "I was thinking of getting a pet, maybe a kitten or a puppy. What would you suggest?" The man turned toward the counter, as the owner stepped out from behind. "Well, do you live in a house or an apartment?" the owner asked. "A house, out in the country. Plenty of room for a dog to run. But I'm not sure about letting a cat out all the time." "I know what you mean," said the owner. "If you have a barn or some similar building the cat could live in all the time, that would be good. But, I don't believe in letting house cats run wild. Too easy for them to get hurt or turn feral." "Yes, I had considered that." "Have you ever owned pets before?" "We had a dog when I was a boy, but I've been moving a lot since then. It didn't seem fair to keep moving a pet around like that. Now, I'm set for at least a few years, so I thought it might be time to try having a friend." The man reached out to touch one of the cages and the puppy inside licked his fingers eagerly. "He certainly likes you. Why don't we get the paperwork out of the way, and then we can see which pet suits you best." The owner walked back behind the counter and pulled out the computer keyboard. The man was still getting his fingers licked. "Sir, if you could step over here?" "Certainly." With a last lick, he pulled his fingers free and walked over to the counter. "Now," the owner said, as he brought the Pet Ownership Application form on screen, "your name please?" "Richard Nixon." The owner looked up at the man's face. "I know, I know. I can't help it if my parents have a weird sense of humor." The store owner typed in the information. "Address, Date of birth, and your Social Register Number?" "Why do you need that?" Nixon asked. "I mean my Register Number." "Ever since the Animal Rights Act was signed into law in '94, we need to file a complete report on all pet purchases. Can't have any weirdoes owning helpless animals, now, can we?" "I guess not," the man answered slowly. He supplied the needed information. "Purpose of purchase?" "Beg pardon?" "They want to know why you want a pet. I mean, we get some guys in here who buy small animals just to feed to their larger pets. Can you believe that, in this day and age?" The owner shook his head. "We'll just put you down as `for companionship'. Complete past ownership history?" "Just the dog we had when I was a child." "None. Any diseases that might harm a pet?" "Not that I know of." "Okay. Are there any small children that might disturb the animal?" "No, of course not. I live alone." "Fine. Can't have those little demons pulling ears and biting tails. By the way, take this list of household chemicals that you need to check for. There will be an inspector by one month after the purchase to confirm you have locked all bio and chemical hazards away from the animal." "Jeeze, they take this seriously," Nixon commented. "Hey, a pet is a big responsibility," the owner said, shaking a finger at Nixon. "It's not like having a kid, that can take care of itself, you