Sniffing Out the Stolen Pups

“Mister Mouse, Mister Mouse!” The kettle corn kids swarmed outside my hole, waking me from my snug slumber.

“Get your kernels outta here!” I screeched, burrowing my nose into my nest. But they wouldn’t stop shouting, popping around outside. I uncovered myself and poked my nose out. “What’s all the yapping about?”

A handful all shouted at once.

“Trouble! Trouble!”

“Butter’s baby bums be busted!”

“Aunty Sugar’s children are gone!”

Sadness wrapped me in her cold embrace. “Not the younglings…” I glanced up to where I’d last seen the litter of caramel pups, wrapped in snug white wraps. A mixing machine blocked my view; it’s black cord dangling.

“You’re the only one who can look, Mister Mouse!”

“You can go anywhere!”

“Please help!”

I sighed and rubbed the last traces of sleep from my eyes. Listening for the creaks of the Bigs, I scurried out and climbed the cord to the cheers of the kettle corn kids.

The top of the counter was full of wondrous stuff, with many places for the caramel pups to hide, but they were not here. Sniffing, I closed my eyes and pictured how sweet they smelled last night. Their scent lingered in the air, and I followed it across the counter, careful not to knock anything amiss. The Bigs didn’t like when I moved things.

Soon, another sound reached my ears. Butter’s sorrowful moans. Sugar was still by the hot flat land, and though she made no sound, her container looked moist.

I glanced back again to where the caramel pups had been, tail twitching in agitation. They were only one day old! They couldn’t have gotten far on their own. At the edge of the counter, their smell continued forward, but I surveyed the room. It was still light and early for me, but the Bigs were usually about. Still, no sign or sound of them.

“Did anyone see what happened to the caramel pups?” I squeaked loudly. The new group of fruits were acting aloof and wouldn’t even look at me.

“I saw.”

I looked to the top of the cold white tower in awe. “Oatmeal Cream? I thought you’d gone.”

“Gone where?” he croaked, crinkling his plastic wrapping. “Left me here to die, they did. ‘Processed junk’, they said. But Old Oat Cream survives. Not like those chillen you’re seeking.”

“Where are they?”

“The Bigs took ‘em. Out The Door.”

I looked at The Door and twitched. Scrambling down the wall I aimed towards a different hole, an old hole, one that leads to doom. I sniffed it cautiously, imagining I could smell my ancestors who had made the journey from Outside, coming here for a better life.

The tunnel was cold, rumbling, and darker than I’d become accustomed to. I followed the memory of my mother showing me the way if I ever needed to escape. The rumblings grew louder as I approached, and pungent gases filled my nose, coating my fur, my tongue, everything.

I paused to take a shallow breath, then pushed on.

Finally, the opening appeared, the hole to the parking garage. I had heard the Bigs speak of it since they kept their great metal beast caged there and needed it to travel Outside. The gases were much worse through the hole, and there were many metal beasts lined up. Still, I inched out, sniffing deeply for any whiff of the caramel pups through the toxic fumes.

I kept to the sides, scurrying under the ends of the metal beasts, staying far away from those that roared and moved. The stone path was long and cold, and my paws ached as I searched. A hint of something made my nose twitch.

It was them! The creamy scent of the caramel pups!

I raced along the path of scent. It grew stronger and I ran faster until I reached a great metal beast that also smelled like the Bigs. I skidded to a halt as I recognized the heeled foot of Mrs. Bigs. I dashed underneath the great metal beast and crept forward slowly, hidden from sight.

“Mmmm…” Mrs. Bigs’ foot was tap tap tapping on the pavement, and she was humming like she did as she stood before the hot flat land, mixing and stirring. The scent of the children was strong now, and I hoped they weren’t inside the great metal beast. I looked for a place to climb up into the beast when I heard the soft scrap of paper against stone. At Mrs. Bigs’ foot lay one of the thin white wrappings that had covered each of the caramel pups.

“No,” I couldn’t stop my dismayed squeak. At the same time, the great metal beast above me roared to life. Mrs. Big’s foot rose out of sight, leaving the white wrap rusting gently in an unnatural breeze. I raced forward and grabbed it, feeling the stickiness of the caramel pups, and smelling the horrid scent of Mrs. Bigs’ saliva on the wrap.

I raced back through the parking garage, nearly choking on the gassy smells, or perhaps just my tears. When I finally made it to the tunnel, I took time to compose myself.

Returning to my home at last, the kettle corn kids swarmed me, shouting all at once, but I ignored them and climbed to the counter where I could see both Butter and Sugar.

“I’m so sorry,” I squeaked out. “They’re gone.”

Butter wailed, her tears melting into a puddle around her. Sugar stood silently.

“You will all be gone one day!” Old Oat Cream called. “Everyone gets eaten. Everyone but me!” he cackled. I glared at him, overwhelmed with a desire to rip open his packaging and sink my teeth into him.

Instead, I climbed back down into my hole and snapped at the kettle corn kids to stay away. Then I sniffed the caramel pup’s wrap deeply and quietly shredded it to add to my nest.