Member-only story
Stealing Hearts
Confessions of a Dog Park Cleptomaniac
Nobody likes a thief.
I remember hearing people say that.
My own dad, people call him Bruno, told me, “Now listen here, Archie, nobody likes a thief. Nobody will want you around if you keep stealing their stuff.”
The thing is, I don’t steal. Not in a real sense. I never take anything big or anything that can’t easily be replaced. I don’t even keep the things I take.
I have no use for the odd glove or hat. And that purse I took? It didn’t even match my coat.
Anyway, if people leave stuff lying around, that’s on them. If it gets taken, it gets taken.
Dad was wrong about everything. Stealing made me famous! Not world-wide famous like my old friend, Rudy. He’s huge now. I heard people talking about him the other day. His mother wrote some sort of story about him and put it in a big book. Something about Chicken Soup. I don’t know all the details, but if it involves chicken soup, it has to be good.
But I am famous in and around Strathclair. Everybody knows me. When I show up, people rush to greet me.
“Here comes Archie!” they say. Or, “Look out, there’s Archie!”
