Weekend Write-In Story Collection

Old Dog

In 500 words, imagine what happens when an old dog learns a new trick. Written for the Weekend Write-In Challenge: "Trick" — 25-27 March 2016.

David and Grandpa share some wisdom.

New Tricks

David opened the front door and stepped in, followed closely by his dog. "Grandpa..."

"In here, Sweetheart, in the den."

"Come on Arfer, he'll tell us." He led the way along the hall.

His grandfather looked up from a project. "You look befuddled, David."

"If that means I'm confused... Yeah, I am."

"Great. That shows you're thinking." He tousled David's blonde curls. "That means things are happening in this pretty little head. So, what's confusing you?"

"I just taught Arfer to play fetch with himself. He now crouches at the top of the driveway, puts the ball down and nudges it with his nose down the slope. He watches it as it picks up speed, then he springs up and fetches it just before it reaches the bottom. Now he can play ball while I'm in school."

"So why are you confused about that?"

"I was showing Sister Mercedes another new way I designed to do math in my head. She couldn't follow my explanation and told me that we can't teach old dogs new tricks."

"That's an old proverb." Probably a better way to say this is that you can't make deadened spirit think freely."

David tilted his head and looked into his grandfather's eyes. "What do you mean, deadened spirit?"

"Think of Sister Mercedes and many of the other nuns. They've been told what to believe, they've been indoctrinated through many years of religious brainwashing. Their wills to think, their self-expressions have been deadened. They wear artificial cloaks of pseudo-spirituality that they've been convinced to wrap themselves in. They've lost their own true spirit and expression, and seem unable to do much except proselytise, prattle Hail Marys and play holier than thou."

"Yeah, I can see that. Some of them are like zombies." He nodded his head. "So it's not the old ones that can't be taught new, but those with deadened spirit."

"You got it." He smiled. "So, Sweetheart, tell me about your new math discovery."

"I was daydreaming while Sister Mercedes babbled on and on about the Blessed Virgin, snickering to myself thinking of virgins." He looked up and grinned. "Anyway, I started doing mental math to keep myself from falling asleep. I had seen a sequential relationship in squares and square roots. The square of the next number in sequence is the sum of the current number squared plus itself and the next number in sequence."

"That sounds interesting. Give me an example of what you mean."

"The simple example: The square of two is four, so the square of three, which is the next number in sequence is two squared plus two plus three, which is nine. The square of five is twenty-five, so the square of six is twenty-five plus five plus six, which totals thirty-six. The square of twenty is four hundred, so the square of twenty-one is four hundred plus twenty plus twenty-one, which totals four hundred and forty-one. Obvious. Simple.

"Wonderful, Sweetheart. You've just taught two old dogs new tricks."