Free Einstein Dog by Craig Spence Page B

Professor Smith wasn’t the only one who had picked Einstein and Genie out of the litter; they’d picked each other too, and no dispute over a silly race was going to change that.
    Einstein had drifted into a pleasant snooze when, suddenly, he felt himself muscled roughly aside. Cap had arrived to claim his preferred spot. Einstein grunted uncomfortably, then yelped as a sharp pain shot up his rump. Cap had bitten him! Flushed with anger, Einstein growled and turned on his brother. The two faced each other, lips curled, hackles raised.
    Stop it! Libra commanded with a telly too potent to ignore. Einstein wriggled over to make more room, and Cap shoved himself in, taking advantage of the offer. Then they lay there, side by side, each angry at the other.

    The sun glittered in the treetops like a gigantic Christmas ornament. Campus Green rolled invitingly away from the kennel compound toward Campus Wood.
    â€œIf it wasn’t for Dean Zolinsky’s orders we could be out there playing,” Bertrand complained, closing his eyes to shut out the tantalizing scene. He was slouching against the warmed concrete of the Stafford Building.
    Libra grunted agreement, shifting her head in his lap. She missed running free.
    Why she mean?
    Bertrand considered the question. He’d never asked it before, but it needed an answer, especially since his father would be going to see the dean again very soon to talk about
    Libra and the SMART pups. Professor Smith claimed to be “making progress”, but Bertrand would believe it when he saw it.
    Elaine, too, said Dean Zolinsky was “softening” her stand because his father had convinced her that keeping the SMART dogs in captivity was having a negative effect on their research. “Seeing is believing,” Bertrand muttered.
    He let go the thought. No sense clouding a perfectly wonderful hour in the sun with useless speculations. Instead he tilted his face up and adjusting his back against the warm concrete.
    Stupid lady!
    He blushed, thankful at least he hadn’t uttered his childish insult out loud. Professor Smith had taught him from a very young age to avoid name-calling. Bertrand could hear his father’s gentle admonition now: “Don’t use labels. Think things through. Understand what it is you’re angry about and state the problem intelligently.”
    Libra shifted again, pointing her head toward Bertrand’s feet. A faint tickling at the back of his cranium made him smile. Libra was laughing.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” he asked.
    She bad!
    Bertrand shook his head and groaned. He seemed to be going through some kind of regression. “What’s the matter with me?” he muttered, opening his eyes. Libra’s head was still nestled in his lap, but she wasn’t snoozing. He followed her glance beyond his feet to the spot where Einstein sat staring, like a determined child.
    She bad! Einstein repeated.
    â€œHuh?”
    It took Bertrand a second to realize what was happening — his “thoughts” about Dean Zolinsky actually belonged to an eight week old SMART pup.
    â€œI don’t believe it!” Bertrand said.
    Talkies, Einstein proclaimed proudly. Genie talk too. We teach others.
    â€œBut that’s impossible!” Bertrand cried. “It takes human babies a year or more to learn how to talk. You’re only a couple of months old!”
    Monkey, ball, duck, stick, bone, slipper, Einstein recited, visual images of the words appearing in quick succession in Bertrand’s thoughts along with the audio. Elaine, Professor, Bertrand, Ariel, Libra.
    Bertrand blinked. The pup stared. Einstein’s lips, tongue and vocal chords couldn’t possibly shape themselves to the requirements of human speech, but he was able to add words to his tellies. “Incredible!” Bertrand gasped.
    She mean , the dog repeated once more, then trotted across the compound to join his sister at the perimeter