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Part V: A Year and a Day

Rascal scrapped his tongue against his teeth trying to get rid of the taste of crap in his mouth. It seemed that the six tiny things constantly nursing at his engorged tummy were only productive when they were making their little craps. Of course, it fell to "Mama" to keep their tushies clean. It was a thankless job and one that Rascal was already tired of as with every passing day the pups' digestive systems matured and their stool tasted less and less like the milk they fed on and more and more like actual crap.

Overall, it was a tough job and Rascal developed a newfound respect for his own poorly remembered mother and how hard it must have been for her. Though at least she had actually been female her entire life and surely hadn't been four times as heavy as she ought to have. For Rascal, now with gigantic milk sacs resting below his already distended belly, reaching the pups at his lower belly was a constant challenge. Even more challenging was doing these things that a mother should do while recovering from major surgery.

Two weeks after the surgery Rascal's stitches still itched like the devil. A long red scar, parallel to his spine lay tucked away between the great, sagging milk sacs but still marked the place where Rascal had been cut open and his insides fondled and manipulated. He'd felt groggy and not at all himself when he'd been brought home, but now he ached inside and the scar burned when the skin on his belly was pulled. The obese collie recovered but slowly. Rascal understood his procedure to have been very long and complicated by his severe weight issues even though he remembered nothing of it. Which was fine as Rascal was concerned, the mere memory of those knives and tools siting on the steel tray was enough make his mouth run dry.

Rascal relaxed onto his side. "Mohawk" as Rascal was calling him for the white streak on his head and neck was still nursing, but the other five pups were all sound asleep and nestled tightly against the soft girth of the collie's chest. The first born, it was not surprising that Mohawk was the biggest and fattest of the lot - though Rascal had to admit that he had no room to talk - and he seemed never to stop eating. Though Rascal's milk production was such that despite six hungry mouths, the engorged pink sacs affixed to his abdomen were still full and round.

Flesh pressing against his cheek, Rascal ventured to lift his head and observe the changes wracked on his body since the coming of the pups two weeks ago. Aside from the obvious scar and multitude of stitches as well as the fully formed milk sacs, Rascal actually looked a fair bit healthier than he had just before the delivery. Well, at least he was a fair amount slimmer. The day that Rascal had made his haphazard escape into the "wild" at the end of the parking lot in Texas, he had been round and swollen like a pumpkin. His flanks had swelled out to the sides like a cow's and his belly had possessed an almost perfect curvature. Now Rascal was greatly deflated. On his side, the plain of his body was very flat from shoulder to hip. Not only were his pups out of him now, he'd lost a good deal of belly fat filling the milk bladders that now hung very loosely from the underside of his belly. Though, as Rascal had soon discovered, just because he had lost some weight didn't mean that the extra skin was lost as well.

Mohawk finally withdrew his lips from the large nipple he'd been affixed to for the last hour and a half and released a very large belch before yawning and crawling liberally on top of his already sleeping brothers and sisters. Rascal watched with fascination as if from a distance but also with a closeness that he could not put words to. Rascal reached down and stroked the back of the nearest pup with his cold nose and it twitched, stretching its tiny legs and yawning before becoming still. The two smallest puppies had yet to open their eyes.

The moment was tainted only with the realization of their number: six. Six Puppies, not ten. Rascal sighed. He didn't know how he knew, but he did, there had been ten puppies. However, when he had woken after the surgery there had been only two new puppies in addition to the four he had managed to deliver by himself instead of the six he had been expecting. It was impossible to know exactly what had happened but Rascal knew that something had gone wrong, the pain had been too sharp and intense before the c-section, the contractions weak and ineffective. Four of the puppies had died because he'd been too fat to complete the delivery. The jowls lifted and exposed Rascal's teeth as he lay and rested beside the brood that he'd brought into the world. If it was within him to forgive Rose for forcefully stealing his young fit body and giving him this one which she had failed to take care of, it certainly was beyond him to forgive her utter lack of responsibility in allowing herself to become pregnant with such an out of shape and obese body. 'She should have known better!' Rascal railed in his mind, a hot tear sliding down his muzzle and onto the floor as his heart went out for the lost four pups. But still... there were six pups here and alive that needed him now. That thought cooled the heat of Rascal's anger, but also the knowledge of his utter impotence in being able to wrest any kind of retribution on the careless canine.

'For now at least...' thought Rascal before he allowed himself to slip into a well deserved slumber.

"Mohawk! Blondie! Get your furry little butts over here this instant!"

The two young pups looked up in alarm at their mother's stern call. Abashed, Blondie, the yellow coated collie-lab mix let go of plush duck toy she and her brother had been fighting over. Mohawk followed suit and walked slowly towards Rascal, his eyes turned towards the wood floor of the exhibit, the small worn fabric duck dragging on the floor from his mouth. Rascal glared down at two of the pups he had managed to deliver by himself as they came to rest between his forepaws, their tiny bodies seeming truly minuscule in comparison with their mother's bulk. However, Rascal had learned by now that tinniness was not an excuse for misbehaving. Mohawk dropped the toy duck, which was almost as large as himself but would not meet Rascal's eyes.

The fattened collie was upset. "How many times have I told you two not to play with my duck toy?" said Rascal who, after all, had allowed full access to all the rest of the toys in the exhibit save for his one favorite stuffed duck. He couldn't understand why they constantly broke that one single rule when there were so many other toys littered about... and it was always these two.

Blondie looked at the floor between her tiny paws, her still-blunt muzzle quaking a bit; Rascal could tell that she was about to cry. But Rascal's pity had evaporated during the first four times this had happened; goodness knows how many other times they stole his toy and simply weren't caught. Sure she was very sorry now... but Mohawk had a way of leading her constantly into various forms of mischief. Rascal turned his eyes to the black collie-mix pup who refused to look at him. A frown spread on Rascal's round, fat face.

"Mohawk." Rascal said, but the recalcitrant pup still did not look up. "Mohawk! Look at me." Growled Rascal and finally the small blue eyes came up, now tear-stained but still defiant. "Mohawk. Why do you keep taking Mommy's toy?" asked Rascal, now in a level tone.

At first it appeared as if the pup were not going to answer, but in the end, he tossed his snout away and all but spat the words out, "It's fun!"

Rascal rolled his eyes and pulled the toy duck up against his fatty and protruding chest. "I've told you before. I've told both of you," he added for Blondie's benefit, "This is my toy. All the rest are yours, but this one is mine."

Mohawk grumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Rascal, lowering his head towards Mohawk; he had to stop short, however because he was in danger of engulfing Blondie in his copious and sagging neck flesh.

When Mohawk lifted his face, he really was crying now but Rascal saw more than anger in the young pup's eyes, he saw pain. "I said, 'You're too fat to play with it anyway!'"

Rascal was stunned to hear this from someone who he had shoved out of his rear end only five weeks ago. Somehow he had never considered the issue of explaining his abnormal size to his puppies. Anger rose up in the fat collie. Despite the fact that the crowds that came to see him often called him "fat" they were always impersonal and of course, the Jerk never had anything negative to say about his dog's size. This was the first time that Rascal had felt ridiculed because of his weight. The collie's paw rose in preparation for a sound cuff.

But something held him back. Bravely, Mohawk did not try to run or even flinch, he just closed his eyes and accepted his punishment. Rascal could not bring himself to punish the pup this way today - even though he had doled it out for other justifiable reasons in the past, such as when Mohawk had left a stinky surprise right in the middle of everyone's bedsheets. Rascal sighed heavily with exasperation. "Go to the corner." He said sternly. "You're grounded until nightfall."

More tears dripped onto the wood floor from the black and white puppy, but with only minimal whining and complaining, he left. Rascal shook his head as he watched him go. Then he noticed the yellow puppy trying to slink away.

Rascal raised his paw and placed it on the fleeing puppy's back, gently pressing down until her belly was against the floor. "And where do you think you are going, Blondie?"

"...Nowhere..." she said in her little voice.

"I think you were." Contradicted Rascal. "You aren't getting out of this cleanly, little girl. Your job is to watch Mohawk and make sure he stays in the corner."

"But Mom!" squeaked the blond canine.

"No buts, little missy. Now go watch your brother." Blondie looked fit to fall into a tantrum of tears and wails, but she too left in the end.

After it was over, Rascal collapsed slowly onto his wide flank. Parenting was exhausting and a lot harder than he had imagined. Even the all-knowing Internet did not have advice for every situation that inevitably emerged. Rascal was doing the best he could, but in the end, he often felt like he was doing as much harm as good.

The sounds of scuffling came from behind him and Rascal had to roll over to face it. His still very large milk sacs dragged down the right side of his torso and then flopped over to hit the ground with a wet smack, but Rascal hardly noticed. Three-socks had Arrow down on the ground and was gripping the smaller male's neck tightly between her jaws. She wouldn't relent despite the male's squeaking and submissive cries. Rascal tried to summon the energy for yet more mothering...

As night began to creep into the sky, Rascal let Mohawk free from his punishment early, but that one puppy still continued to trouble the morbidly obese collie. He scratched at an itchy milk bladder with a hind paw as he thought about what to do. The boy was obviously intelligent and despite his anger and aggression, Rascal thought that he was rather sensitive on the inside. The almost hurt comment that he made on his mother's size seemed to break some sort of unspoken barrier despite its indirect nature. Rascal knew he needed to address the issue somehow, but how could he? The huge amount of excess weight on his body was the fault of another! But Mohawk would not understand and though Rascal could not explain his reasons exactly, he knew it was important that the pups remain ignorant about the exact circumstances of their mother.

As the wind changed, Rascal caught the pungent scent of fair food on the wind. His cavernous stomach growled at the fond memories that emerged. With the birth of the pups, Rascal's appetite had returned almost back to "normal" though he found that he was still eating his dry food during the day in the exhibit. He was lactating - a lot - after all and the internet said that bitches need extra nutrition during this time. As he huffed in the alluring odors on the breeze, the idea came to him and Rascal figured out how he could kill two birds with one stone.

Late that night, half an hour before the fair closed, Rascal found himself outside doing something he had deprived himself of for the last five weeks. Mohawk, having snuck out and hid under the trailer while the Jerk was busy hauling out Rascal's bulk was wide-eyed and livid, a wiggling ball of fur by Rascal's paws. "The Fair! Night! Outside!!" squeaked the puppy, unable to contain his excitement, but only able to wiggle and sniff since Rascal had expressly ordered him to stay at his mother's side.

Rascal was unsure now about his plan. Perhaps he was simply rewarding the pup's bad behavior... but it was too late to change the plan now. Besides, his belly urged Rascal on for the other reason the two of them were out here tonight.

Rascal walked laboriously forward. There seemed no end to the amount his belly sagged now. The excess skin from when he'd been at his heaviest just prior to the birth had not retreated or shrunk in the slightest, the older skin having lost its elasticity. Also there was the length of the heavy milk sacs which, of course were the longest and heaviest between his hind-legs where there was also the most amount of sag to his torso. Combining the two lengths left the burdensome bladders dangling and hitting his feet as he walked, merely two or three inches above the ground. It was an embarrassing sight, Rascal was only now realizing as he had not spent any length of time on his feet in the last five weeks. That realization also hit him as he just now thought of it.

Despite the pup's comment which was at the heart of tonight's activity, Mohawk remained ignorant of his mother's anxiety and happily strolled at Rascal's feet, sniffing the ground when he wasn't looking up at the stars. Rascal, as they were coming up at the end of the exhibition alley paused to scratch, but with his wobbling bulk and aching joints, couldn't quite manage. "Mohawk. Reach up and scratch Mommy's leg, please."

Mohawk did so without question, sinking his little claws as deep as he could as Rascal rested his rump briefly on the ground. Apparently he caught sight of Rascal's many bloated milk sacs for after dropping back to the ground he asked, "Mommy, can I have a snack?"

Normally Rascal would have obliged the pup despite the fact that he was supposed to be weaning, but the fattened collie instead said, "No, my son. We're going to be getting a snack right now."

The Deep Fried Butter stand looked the same as it always did - deserted - and smelled the same as it always had - greasy. Rascal - or rather Rascal's belly - couldn't wait.

"What's that smell, Mommy?" Asked Mohawk quite pleasantly, pleased at his little adventure separate from his siblings.

"A little slice of Heaven, son." Said Rascal with an almost intoxicated quality to his voice. The two dogs moved forward, the fair and its lights a colored blur in the background.

"Oh, fatty girl." Said the stall keeper after Rascal scratched vigorously at the wooden door to the stand. "I wasn't sure if I was going to see you again." Still wearing the same stained striped uniform, the skinny man came out from behind the counter and stretched out a hand to stroke the top of Rascal's head. Mohawk seemed to lose touch with his former bravery and shrank at his mother's flabby side. "Ooohhh." The human drew out the agonizingly cute syllable. I forgot you were a mother now. Come here little tike."

Mohawk whined and crept around the curve of Rascal's round flank. The fattened collie rolled his eyes with a satisfied grin. The human seemed to get the joke for he grinnedalso and withdrew his hand. Mohawk poked his head out from around the fat collie's side.

"The usual then?" said the stall owner brushing his hands against each other.

Rascal woofed once, enthusiastically and his belly replied with its own deep gurgle; though the noise was rather muffled with the full helping of kibble and chicken broth filling its volume.

Only a few minutes of patting passed before the long awaited treat was placed neatly between Rascal's waiting paws. Though he was almost panting with anticipation, for the first time, Rascal did not devour the Deep Fried Butter on the spot. Instead, he gently picked up the hot, greasy confection between his salivating jaws and carried it a short distance away into the shadows beside a nearby and closed exhibit. The need the collie felt for the treat in his mouth was strong, but he had come out here tonight for more than just to satisfy his lust for fried fair food.

"Mommy, what is that?" asked Mohawk as he curiously sniffed at the deep fried cube of butter after Rascal set it down.

Rascal had to think for a long while about how to start this off. He settled for a simple question. "Mohawk, do you know why I brought you along with me tonight?"

The pup lowered his head, "Because I called you fat." It wasn't a question at all.

'So perceptive, this young little thing.' thought Rascal with a small smile. "That's partly the reason, yes." said the elder canine. Rascal settled down onto his wide, deep belly, the small pup crept up and put his own small paws on Rascal's much larger one. The obese collie brought his head close to his puppy's. "You know that everyone is different, right son?"

Mohawk nodded looking a little ashamed as he stared wide eyed up at the large orbs of his mother.

'How can I explain this?' ... Rascal's own feelings were mixed on the subject. He gestured with his nose to his own vast form occupying the space beside his relatively smaller head. "Well... This is another way of being different. Like the way you have black fur and blonde has yellow fur." said Rascal not quite truthfully; he was certain that Blondie's fur color was not slowly killing her the way Rascal's weight was. However Mohawk nodded as if he understood.

But Rascal wasn't done with the pup yet. He raised his other paw and, stretching against his chest and shoulder fat, managed to gently prod Mohawk's own round puppy-gut. "One thing you need to understand, my son is that your words can hurt people on the inside. You know that out of the whole litter, you're the heaviest right? You're the fattest one of the bunch."

Rascal did not speak in a ridiculing tone, but Mohawk turned away and his paws flew to cover his round tummy. His face told Rascal that he was upset. "I'm not fat!" He squeaked.

"Of course you're not." Agreed Rascal. "You've got a lot of growing to do still. But it didn't feel very good when I said did it?"

"No." muttered the small collie mix, looking calmer now.

"Do you think you can be more careful with your words from now on?" Insisted Rascal.

"Yes Mommy." replied Mohawk, now thoroughly subdued.

Rascal lifted his head and licked Mohawk's whole head with his tongue and the pup giggled. The fat collie's stomach was insisting that Rascal pay attention to the more important matter of the Deep Fried Butter at hand, but Rascal was able to keep the urge at bay for a little linger. "Wherever did you get the idea that being fat was a bad thing?" asked Rascal, now genuinely curious.

Like children of all ages, the first thing out of Mohawks mouth was "I don't know." But with Rascal's constant stare, the puppy eventually added, "I saw on television...". Rascal rolled his eyes in helpless agreement and his son added, "and some humans said mean things about you in the exhibit. They are always saying mean things." The last part was a barely audible whisper from the small pup.

Rascal frowned with concern, but he honestly didn't know what to say. So he simply cupped his pup close with the underside of his jaw and snuggled with the young boy for a warm moment. Rascal felt an almost desperate energy emanating from him and knew that all Mohawk wanted in this moment was to be close to his mother. After a few moments that seemed to last an hour, finally it was the allure of Deep Fried Butter that broke the embrace. Rascal tucked in slowly, savoring each bite like it was his last as Mohawk watched.

The morbidly obese collie was more than halfway done when the pup spoke up. "Mommy does eating make you fat?"

Rascal looked down and chuckled slightly. "Well maybe eating this makes you fatter. But normal food is good for you. Everyone has to eat."

Mohawk's eyes lit up and he stood up against Rascal's shoulder with urgency. "Mommy why are you eating that if it makes you fatter?!"

That was a question that Rascal himself had been avoiding. The collie did not want to think about the question or any possible answers - such could only detract from the pleasure of Deep Fried Butter - so he answered the question with an example. Rascal carefully bit off another slice of the dessert and spit it out in front of the young puppy. "Try it." Was all the older dog said.

Mohawk sniffed the yellow melting lump for some time before finally tasting it. And in a blink the morsel was gone and Mohawk was wagging his tail. "Oh mama! That's yummy!"

"Yes it is... It sure is. Rascal agreed as he reached down for another helping.

By the time that the pups were ten weeks old, it was difficult for Rascal to imagine life without them despite their rambunctious and rebellious energy. For starters, they were an extraordinary source of free labor. The ability of the young canines to fetch and gather things for Rascal was a lifesaver because the collie's weight loss streak had come to an abrupt halt as soon as the demand for milk had begun to wane. In fact, in five weeks Rascal had somehow managed to regain all of the weight he had lost after his pregnancy. He could tell because the slack in the skin on his torso had all but vanished over the weeks. Rascal thought that he could guess the cause of the sudden reversal but he did not feel too inclined to think overlong about it. And besides, he was kept constantly busy by his hyper-active brood.

As Rascal was beginning to learn, however, the authority of "Mother" status was precarious indeed if one did not possess adequate power to back up the commands. Most of the pups had by now realized that they could do what they wished as long as they remained beyond a few feet of the largely immobile bulk of their mother. Exhibits nowadays had become a noisy and rowdy affair with utter chaos ruling on whatever side of the square Rascal was not currently occupying. Every so often, things would escape beyond tolerance and Rascal would have to heave up his bulk, waddle to the other side and attempt to get his pups in line; those that didn't simply run away, anyway. The effort was exhausting for Rascal and he knew he was beginning to let a lot of things slide or resolve themselves. Arrow already had torn a nick in his left ear from rough play.

Conversely, Mohawk was now the star son of the litter and his constant companion, Blondie was a runner-up. The white striped collie mix was a huge help for Rascal, whether serving as his mouthpiece and saving him the effort of lifting his massive frame or fetching the food dish or his now maimed duck toy. It was an on-going battle keeping it safe from needle-sharp puppy teeth as evidenced by the now greatly reduced stock of cloth toys. Though honestly, the pups had as much fun playing in the cotton as they had with the actual toys. Rascal felt like Mohawk's help made an impossible job into something he could at least manage most of the time. However at time the heavyweight collie felt that Mohawk was becoming a bit too clingy.

One night, Rascal found himself on his nightly excursion to secure another helping of Deep Fried Butter. Today had been rough and he really needed the rich buttery taste to melt once more on his taste buds. Arrow and Patch had been chosen to accompany him tonight. Patch was here as a reward, but Arrow was coming along so Rascal could keep an eye on him; he'd been fighting with Mohawk again. The lard laden collie felt a sour taste in his mouth as he knew that Arrow viewed Mohawk's inseparability from his mother as a weakness and constantly chided the striped pup for it.

For Rascal, the distance between the trailer and the butter stand seemed to grow longer and longer. While he was not longer lactating nearly as much as he had been previously with the pups now almost entirely on solid food, the extra skin of the sacs themselves was slow to retreat back into his belly. Furthermore, he was now just as heavy as he had been with ten puppies inside his belly. All that could be said for the new weight was that it was evenly distributed rather than all concentrated in his belly. However, by the time they had walked little more than halfway up the alley towards the stand, Rascal's hip was complaining again.

The fat collie started limping and by the time that the butter stand came into view, he could go no farther. The joint where his right leg connected to his pelvis was molten and even the desire to fulfill his need for Deep Fried Butter wasn't strong enough to keep him on his feet. Rascal was panting with stress and exertion as set his wobbly bulk on the ground and looked at the stand with longing. In answer to his pups' questioning looks, Rascal said, "Mommy needs a little break, kids."

"But the butter man is right there!" whined Arrow impatiently. Rascal sat with his hind-leg splayed as his hip continued to burn. Patch, one of the two who had survived the cesarean section, looked up silently but with obvious fear in her eyes. Rascal knew that his behavior was unusual, but he didn't want to frighten the pups.

Suddenly an idea came to mind and Rascal shifted his weight to seem less injured and more lively. "Actually," Rascal said, doing a marvelous job of keeping the pain out of his voice, "I wanted to see if you two could get my butter for me tonight. Do you think you can do it?"

Patch still looked unsure, but Arrow spoke up immediately. "Of course we can do it. We're big dogs now!" Arrow sounded like the plan was his idea from the start.

Rascal grinned and let his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. "Good. Now let's see how you do. Do you remember how to get the butter man to come out?"

Arrow was at a loss for words, but Patch arrived with the answer, "Scratch at the door...?" she said unsurely.

"Yes, very good Patch. And also r-"

"Let's go." Said Arrow as he started trotting off towards the stand.

Rascal reached out and just managed to snag the puppy by the end of his tail just at the end of his reach. Rascal dragged the impatient pup back. "Aw... leggo Mom." He complained.

Rascal released the pup and finished what he had started. "Remember both of you, don't let any human pick you up or try to lead you away. Come straight back here when you got Mommy's butter."

"Yes, Mom, we know. Come on Patch." Said Arrow, again turning to go.

Rascal's mind raced, trying to remember if he covered all the bases. "The butter man might try to pet you two. Make sure you let him!" he called after the retreated pups. He leaned forward but had to stop when his hip flared again. Rascal felt almost sick that he was asking his pups to do this for him, but what choice did he have?

"We know!" came the reply to Rascal's bark, and the fattened collie was chagrinned to realize that it was Patch who had spoken this time.

It turned out that Rascal needn't have worried. The ten week olds were already more than proficient at begging and between them managed to carry back the brown cube of liquid deliciousness. Rascal rewarded the two with their own small samples before tearing into the treat himself. With butter and grease dripping from one side of his mouth, Rascal asked, "So did you two have any trouble?"

Arrow said, "Not really. The butter man recognized both of us already."

"And then he saw you over here and knew we weren't lost." Added Patch as she licked at her own golden morsel.

Rascal sighed in relief as well as satisfaction. "That's just great." Said Rascal as he lowered his head for another big bite of Deep Fried Butter. By the time that Rascal was finished, his hip pain had faded enough for the trek back to the trailer. As he walked, Rascal realized that the growing independence of his puppies did come with some perks after all, and as things would have it, Rascal would never walk all the way to the Deep Fried Butter stand again...

Several hours later, in the small hours of the morning inside the trailer, Rascal awoke short of breath as he sometimes did. He spent a few minutes quietly observing his puppies sleeping all around his soft blubbery form and the heat it radiated. He would have normally gone back to sleep as soon as he was able to catch his breath, but Rascal realized that he was not the only person awake this early in the morning.

The Jerk was up too. Rascal saw that he was sitting on his bed and working under the light of his small table lamp. At first, the situation seemed preposterous. The human was writing on a piece of oversized paper of comic proportions. For a moment, the obese collie thought he was dreaming. He even expected to see that the Jerk was using a hugely oversized pencil on the large, stiff paper that was twice the width of his torso. As the Jerk set the paper flat on his lap, however, Rascal saw that he was actually using a marker to write upon the big paper. The Jerk reached over and the mother dog saw that there were markers of several different colors spread out on the bed sheets. He grabbed a different color and went back to work on what Rascal now realized was a large poster board.

The obese collie was very curious now, but couldn't investigate without disturbing all six of her puppies. So Rascal rested his head on his paws and decided to wait for the Jerk to finish. Rascal felt claws dig into the round slope of his belly as a pup rolled against his tummy. A little later, another rested its head inside the nice deep groove formed from the curve of shoulder fat bulging out from Rascal's torso. The fattened collie reveled in the small lives which had started out inside of him and now rested all around him. They were rude, rambunctious and disobedient puppies and yet they satisfied something that Rascal never even knew existed. There was a warmth between them that had nothing to do with each other's body heat.

Finally, the Jerk finished the poster board and set it down beside the bed. He got up and stepped carefully over the nest where Rascal and the puppies lay and into the kitchen where he began to make a pot of coffee and some toast. The sky was beginning to lighten outside the windows and Rascal figured it must have been later than he'd realized. He squinted in the gloom to make out what was written on the poster the Jerk had woken up early to craft. On it read:

Puppies for a Good Home

Lab-Collie mixes, 10-weeks Old

4 Girls 2 Boys

Ask Owner for if interested

Rascal felt like he'd just swallowed his heart.

The poster was up by the time Rascal had finished his breakfast helping of warm broth and kibble. Soon after, the obese collie and the six puppies were dumped into the bottom of the exhibit. The youngsters commenced their playing, completely ignorant of the change in the environment above them, but Rascal knew and he watched the people inspect the sign and then inspect the pups playing below them, the little lives that Rascal had fought and suffered for in order to bring into the world. All he felt that day was dread as he sat helpless and hopelessly sedentary at the bottom of his exhibit where people now where not only coming to see him and his bulging rolls but his puppies now too.

What could Rascal do? He knew he had already spent more time with his pups than he had with his own mother. He knew likewise that despite his rough exterior, the jerk would do his best to make sure that they got to good homes. He'd simply forgotten that letting go was part of being a mother; dogs just had to do it a lot sooner than humans. Rascal thought about telling them what was soon going to happen, but the fattened collie held his tongue. The news would only upset them anyways. Rascal let the six pups play.

It happened quickly. Less than an hour after the sun had passed its zenith, the Jerk lowered the wooden steps into the enclosure. The pups gathered and gawked at the unusual scene. In came the rough, wrinkled man followed by a much younger pair of humans, a young man and a young woman. The pups dashed away as the three humans entered the bottom of the exhibit. They were frightened and Rascal couldn't blame them, the Jerk never lowered the steps until closing time and never had he led strangers into the sacred space of the exhibit. Rascal alone was calm and he sniffed the strangers as they approached. The man smelled of sweat and oil, the woman's knees of dirt and her clothes of flowers.

Arrow was the first to venture out from behind Rascal's protective bulk. He ran up, yapped loudly and turned tail only to dash back and repeat the performance. All three humans laughed as the Jerk bent and gently picked up Arrow by his scruff and hindquarters. "This'un 'ere's a mite feist'eh, but he a barrel o' fun." Said the older man as he handed off the struggling Arrow.

The man spoke, "Actually I think we were looking for a girl. Right dear?". The female nodded her agreement though she continued to hold And stroke Arrow who eventually relinquished and sat still for the petting.

Rascal could only watch as one by one, all of his puppies were seized and handled by the strangers. Of all the pups, Mohawk was the least cooperative and refused to be handled by anyone save The Jerk. He even nipped the man on the thumb when he tried to take him despite Rascal's own urging that he keep still. When all of the pups had been looked at, the attention finally came back on Rascal.

The pointed down to his bloated form where Rascal had sat still during the entire affair. "So that's the mother, then?" the man said and his displease was clear in the tone of his voice.

The Jerk tried to ameliorate for his bitch's obvious flaws. "Ya, bu'she alwa's been'n goo' healt'" He gestured with his rough palm. "Bitch eat too mu't fr'm da start, but... ya know, a'lo' o' it from da act. Not'in wrong wit her."

"And the father?" the woman asked as she looked heavily at Rascal's huge gut which was quite impossible to even pretend to hide.

"Dunno." Said the Jerk as he scratched his chin, "Nev'ah saw it. Din't even no she wa' preggers till da las' minute."

The two young humans moved a bit away and discussed among themselves for a time. The man seemed unsure, but the woman reminded him that the pups were free and very cute.

Mohawk spoke up while the humans were discussing. "Momma, what's happening?"

Rascal sighed, he was hoping that he could get away without explaining it. He looked down at the puppy, seemed again quite small in his eyes. "Mohawk..." Rascal tried to start, but the words didn't come. The fat collie took another deep breath that expanded his round flanks and said. "Those humans are here to take one of you with them... to a new home."

Of course there was shock and dismay among the pups who immediately began to bark in protest, but not for the first time, Rascal was most surprised by Mohawk's reaction. The black and white pup became still and quiet, but when he looked up at his mother with his watery brown eyes, there was a forlorn despair that emanated from them. "Mama..." was all that he uttered before stalking away to hide on the other side of Rascal's bulk. The enlarged collie did not roll over or turn his head to find him. The pup needed his time to come to terms with what was about to happen, which was more than could be really be expected for any young pup up for adoption.

In the end, the humans did pick one of the litter. Patch, with her sweet, calm demeanor was chosen and Rascal watched her small form cradled by the woman's hands as all three of them walked up the stairs and out of sight. Rascal would not see his daughter again.

After the humans left with Patch, the pups were nearly in an uproar, rearing up and putting their paws against the walls of the enclosure while barking their little hearts out. Rascal knew, however that they would soon tire themselves out and be done with it; he'd done the same thing when he was a pup. No, the collie was more concerned about her first son who despite being able to feel reclining against the pudge on his back, might as well have been in a separate room. It wasn't until the late afternoon that Mohawk finally approached his mother.

Rascal let the pup start. "Mom... Did you know that they were going to take us away?"

Now it was Rascal's turn to look away. His fat laden heart sped up a little and emotions whirled, mixing up and tangling with each other. "I-I knew, yes. But somehow... I just never thought about it. Time dragged on and on past the time that puppies are usually sold or given away and I just thought..." Rascal had to take a deep breath and he felt his wide flanks rise and fall against the wood floor supporting his weight. "What I'm trying to say is that I wanted to enjoy you, all of you, while I could. And I wanted all of you to be happy. This is something that's beyond my control but I want you to know that I love you, my son and I always will. No matter what happens."

Mohawk's eyes were watering again. "I love you too, Mommy." The small pup flung himself against Rascal's soft, meaty chest and the obese collie could feel the warm tears though the sparse, wiry fur. "I don't want to go. I want to stay with you."

Rascal stroke his son with a paw and licked down his neck and back. "I know. No one wants to leave their mother."

It was a few seconds before Mohawk lifted his head, but when he did, his eyes were very serious. "Mama, what if there was a way for me to stay?"

Rascal was sure that he was about to be offered some harebrained and desperately concocted puppy-scheme. He said. "Baby, I don't think that is possible. The Jerk doesn't want any more dogs. His trailer is hardly big enough for me as it is."

Then Mohawk showed just how clever he really was. "Mama, what if I got adopted by someone at the fair?"

Rascal's ear dropped in surprise. What if one of them was adopted by one of the fair folk? What if more than one? Was it possible? Could it work? It seemed far-fetched, but still... Rascal said, "Mohawk... I don't know... How would we know who would be interested adopting a dog?"

"The internet of course." Chirped Mohawk as if it were obvious. "Doesn't the Jerk talk with the other fair people on the computer?"

"That he does..." Rascal admitted as the idea bloomed in his head. He remembered what an email account was from his days watching the beginner's tutorials. "We could ask anyone that the Jerk's talked with on the computer to see if anyone wants a dog."

Mohawk was wagging his tail fiercely as he looked up with renewed hope at his mother. The fire in his eyes was unquenchable but Rascal was still unsure. He thought that it would be worth attempting, and he knew vaguely how he might be able to do it, but should he? Mohawk was already very clingy, was it healthy for him to stay so close to his mother? Rascal didn't want to cause the poor child any pain, but nor did he want his eldest son to be shorted the experience of the world. Rascal might have said no to the whole scheme, but there was another factor which weighed on his mind. In fact, it was a factor that weighed heavily on a lot of other things as well.

His weight was out of control and Rascal knew it. It seemed impossible to keep it down, impossible even to muster the will to try to keep it down. Eating had become Rascal's main outlet for stress as well as personal time and recreation all rolled into one. He was too damn fat for walking to be enjoyable, there was little to nothing to look at the bottom of his exhibit or in the trailer and even the novelty of the toys had worn thin. Worse, his age and his increasing weight seemed to be approaching an unavoidable climax, Rascal could sense the difference now from when he had been gaining in the past. How good it had been these last several weeks to have pups to do the things which he was now finding difficult. Rascal had moved less in the last two weeks than he had ever in his life previously and yet he had also never felt more fulfilled or satisfied with life in general. It was a stupid, selfish reason to keep a child around, as nothing more than a personal mule and yet there it was. Rascal was certain that his quality of life was about to seriously decline if he were left stranded alone and with none of his beloved pups.

"...All right. We'll wait until after he is asleep tonight..."

One mass e-mail to all of the people on the Jerk's contact list was all it took to set things in motion. Sure, there might be some confusion later, but all that really mattered was that the people showed up. The following day, things began to move quickly. Humans were in and out of the exhibit almost constantly, the mere sight of people down in the pit enough to draw extra attention from the other guests who'd come to see the "World's fattest dog." The story of Rascal's surprising pregnancy seemed to amuse everyone the Jerk told it to.

Three-socks and Blackey both were taken before noon to the same family. The five children of the large group could not decide on which pup was the cutest so in the end they took both girls. Arrow went next to a grizzled looking farmer who needed a hyperactive herding dog to help with his cattle. All of a sudden, only Mohawk and Blondie were left.

It was a shock to say the least. Where there were five this morning, now only two remained and the day was not even out yet. Rascal had a feeling that these two would last out at least the rest of the day, however. Blondie was shy and despite being inherently more valuable due to her gender, stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of black and white dogs. She was also shy and usually had to be chased down in order to be handled by the visiting humans. Mohawk, even though he was the largest and healthiest-looking of the litter continually sabotaged his interviews by nipping and acting aggressively. Again and again, Rascal failed to correct him as he knew he should have. Staying in the fair was a pipe dream and he was turning down potentially good homes left and right for the chance to remain close to his mother. It was an unnatural state of affairs and Rascal knew it. However, despite his guilt, he could not bring himself to tell Mohawk to behave. The young pup winked at his mother after frightening away yet another set of humans and Rascal thought that he might be sick to his stomach.

That night, Mohawk approached Rascal who had been dozing and told him that he'd informed Blondie of their plan and that she wanted to stay in the fair too. Rascal snorted. He could have called off the whole thing right then and there... but he didn't. With a careless wave of his snout he acknowledged the new conspirator and went back to sleep. Double damned was the same as damned.

In the end, it really wasn't that hard to get Blondie and Mohawk set up as fair dogs. Replies came in during the day and Rascal replied to them that evening when the Jerk was out while hiding under the bed as he always did; Rascal noticed however, that his padded back was brushing against the bottom of the bed now when he crawled under it. Though none of the dogs had seen the people before, all of them could be easily identified as belonging to the fair by the lingering odors of familiar animals, grease, smoke and rubber. Mohawk made sure to be on his best behavior when one stopped by and he even coached Blondie in how to approach humans correctly. Blondie was taken in by an auto mechanic who fixed cars and other stunt vehicles for the derbies and shows at the fair. He was a big, oil stained man with a belly like a keg of beer and greasy blond hair that fell to his shoulders. The Jerk knew him well, though was surprised to see him and couldn't remember inviting him over. Mohawk, at Rascal's urgings, displayed some of his uncanny agility and balance to a woman who was part of an acrobatic act that traveled with the fair. Rascal recognized her from the closed circuit television of the fair shows and promos that the Jerk received for free. She laughed and thought that it could be a great idea to include a dog in the act. She picked up Mohawk gently around his still bulging abdomen and the pup looked long at Rascal as he was lifted away, a little smile on his face. And then he too was gone.

The Jerk lingered and reached down to stroke Rascal on the back of his thick neck after the woman had taken Mohawk away. "Thar go da las'un." He said and patted Rascal's enormous bulk, making it ripple and shake all over, "Jus' oo an'me nah, fat'tog."

The wrinkled, leather faced man got up and left, bringing up the wooden steps behind him. And although people continued to look down at the "World's Fattest Dog" from the rails over head. And although toys were scattered about and the bed was just as wide and comfortable as before. And although the food and water dishes were in the same place as ever they were, the place felt hollow and empty, gutted out. Rascal slept.