One Hundred and One Problems

A 101 DALMATIAN STORY

"Dad? ...Dad?" Lucky tried to shout over the din of yapping, yelling, yipping, and woofing.

To the little Dalmatian puppy, the small apartment where the Dearlys lived sounded like one big contained Twilight Bark.

It was a week since Lucky and his blood-related fifteen brothers and sisters were rescued from the evil fur-loving maniac, Cruella DeVil and her puppy-napping henchmen Horace and Jasper. Their mother and father, Pongo and Perdy, had traveled across the British countryside to the manor where Lucky and his siblings were being held, and with the help of a friendly sheepdog and tomcat called Tibbs, were sneaked back home to London!

...But, of course, it takes more than a mere count of fifteen puppies to make a Dalmatian furred coat, as Cruella had desired, and so along with their biological pups, Pongo and Perdy had also taken the other 84 Dalmatian puppies Cruella had bought from various petshops around the world over time home to live with them.

So, counting his parents and his litter and adding them all up, that made One-Hundred and One Dalmatians living in the little apartment with the three humans.

At first it had been fun having so many new adopted brothers and sisters to play with. One was almost never bored, and Lucky himself still didn't know all of his new family member's names.

But Lucky began to tire of the constant commotion. There was nowhere to sleep at nap time, and it was far too crowded in the little apartment, which was meant for 'two pairs of couples just starting out.' And all of the noise was enough to make the fur of Lucky's horseshoe-pattern spots stand on end.

But the worst of all was the fact that it was almost impossible for Lucky to watch his favorite TV program, the Thunderbolt Adventure Hour!

Today Lucky was especially sick of all the many many new puppies. He was in the process of looking for his father, but in a sea of spots, as pet Roger would say, it was hard to find anyone.

"Dad?" he barked again. Lucky's call was drowned in the rest of the 101 Dalmatians din.

Suddenly Lucky heard his father's voice. "Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four...now, Speckle, hold still...twenty-fi--Ah, haha, Dipstick, not so hard on my ear! Twenty, er, where was I?"

Lucky, afraid of losing his father in the mass of pups again, hurried through the crowd. "Dad?-Oh, 'scuse me...move it, please!" he grunted, pushing through two of his new female Dalmatian sisters, who were leaning on each other back to back and laughing at something Wizzer, one of Lucky's biological  brothers, had done.

Finally Lucky barreled through to Pongo's side. "Dad?"

"...Three, four, five--Oh hello, son--let me see, ah yes! Six, seven, eight..." was the reply Pongo made as he counted his new children for the umpteenth time. The father was obsessed with making sure all were accounted for in the Dearly family.

"Dad, can we go out for a walk today? To the park?" Lucky's tail wagged at the thought of being out of this crowded little room.

"...Nine, ten--I don't think so, not today son, maybe some other time--eleven twelve..."

"But Dad--oof!" Dipstick dropped from his father's ear and landed smack in the middle of the horseshoe shape Lucky's spots made on his back. Dipstick, one of the original fifteen children of the Pongoes, with the end of his tail fur looking like it had been dipped in ink, scrambled off Lucky without apology and took off chasing a female pup carrying one of the Dearly's shoes in her mouth.

"Can we play horse then, Dad?" asked Lucky.

Pongo opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Cadpig shouting, "Yes, yes, horse!" and she jumped on Pongo's back. Cadpig was the other runt of Perdy and Pongo's original litter, so she knew the game well.

Soon Patch, Jewel and three other pups Lucky hadn't met out of his new family yet had crowded onto the adult dog's back.

Pongo was almost crushed to the floor under their weight.

"Oh, yes of course, son, but-but, oh haha," Pongo spoke around the foot of another puppy who was using his mouth to climb up, "ah, wait your turn, Lucky!"

Wait his TURN?! There were 84 puppies living in this apartment, all of them now waiting for a turn to play Horse with LUCKY'S dad! By the time it was his turn, it would be bedtime, and he'd asked first!

Irritated, Lucky pouted. "Sure, dad." he said quietly, his clipped young British accent turning sad.

As he entered the kitchen, Lucky saw Nanny placing pots, pans, dog bowls, human bowls, plates and anything else that could contain the Kanine Krunchies Dogfood she was pouring into them on the floor. With so many Dalmatians, there had to be plenty of the pups' favorite food.

Lucky's face lit up. His father might not have time for him, but now that most of the puppies were wailing for a turn to play Horse with dad, his mother wasn't being harassed!

She was sitting next to a particularly large red bowl with an even more particularly large puppy scarfing the contents inside.

"Mother, mother!" he yapped excitedly.

Perdita turned to look at him distractedly. "Just a moment dear." she turned with a scolding look at Rolly, the "pork" (or the biggest) of her non-adopted, biological puppies, yet another one of the original fifteen. "Rolly," she said patiently. "Nanny hasn't called for everyone to have dinner. It isn't polite to eat before the others get here."

Rolly looked up. Lucky took one look at his brother and collapsed in a fit of laughter.  "You look like a chipmunk!"

It was true. Rolly's cheeks were so full of Kanine Krunchies that Lucky almost gagged when the larger pup so easily swallowed.

After shooting a quick glare at Lucky (still lolling on the floor giggling), Rolly looked up at his mother. "But I'm hungry, Mother."

Lucky sat up. That was his tubby brother's answer to everything. But Lucky was determined to earn his mother's attention. "Mother?"

"Yes, little one, what is it?"

Lucky wagged his tail, eager. "Well, you see, Dad was busy," he said grumpily, "and I was wondering if you and I could play--"

"Not now, Lucky darling." she interrupted gently. "Rolly, I'm sure you could at least wait for Nanny to call--"

"Dinner Tiiiime!" laughed Nanny's shrill, jingling voice.

Lucky's ears jumped. He lunged at a bowl as the thundering of paws and excited yelps came nearer.

He began eating immediately. Soon Jewel and another one of Lucky's litter, Penny, were trying to crowd him out of the food. Nanny was fussing here and there,  making sure there was enough for everyone and that puppies like Rolly didn't eat more than their share.

Lucky filled his stomach rapidly and lifted his head out of the bowl. His two sisters quickly took advantage of the space he gave up and gobbled down their Kanine Krunchies.

The little puppy shifted his gaze here and there until he found his mother. She was picking one pup up by her collar and carrying her to another less crowded bowl.

"Mother!"

"There you are, Two-Tone, dear, this bowl is better for you. What is it now, Lucky?" she actually sounded impatient.

"Mother, can't we go and--"

Perdita looked up from where she was nudging Cadpig to a different bowl. "Lucky, darling, I simply don't have time!" And she proceeded to another side of the kitchen where she could better help Nanny.

Lucky gave up and romped out of the kitchen, sniffing.

                                                       ****
The dusty old balcony was a perfect for a moping Dalmatian. None of the other new puppies even knew there WAS a window balcony outside Roger's study in the attic.


So, as said before, the little spot was ideal for the sulking Lucky, who, in his mood, did not want to have anything to do with his new family.

How could none of the other pups be feeling like this? Was little Lucky the only one his parents were...well, IGNORING?

Lucky knew his parents had done the right thing in helping the other puppies, and escaping with them from scary old Cruella, but was it really necessary to bring them all home?

To LUCKY'S home? To his pets, Nanny, Roger and Anita? To his TV and Thunderbolt show? To HIS mom and dad?!

The little pup huffed, his breath fogging in the late December air. 101 Dalmatians.

One hundred and one problems that were not going away any time soon. Even if Roger and Anita had plans for a 'Dalmatian Plantation' at a farm, how much better could things get? Mom and Dad would still be too busy to have any time for--

"...Lucky?" came a shy voice from behind the window.

Lucky sighed. That wasn't the voice of his mother or father. It was a puppy voice, and not one he recognized.

One of the new ones. Just what he needed. Lucky turned around and rolled his eyes. "What is it?" So much for the balcony no newbie knew about.

A little black nose nudged the window-door to the balcony open a little more. "It's me--Splatter." his voice was young and heavily British in accent. When this puppy said his name, it sounded like 'Splattah'.

This was that mucky puppy who always got into Roger's ink jar and Anita's garden. And the rubbish bin. And generally everything messy. Lucky had never met him face-to-face, but it was hard to ignore a puppy who got into the most gunk out of all ninety-nine puppies in the Dearly's home in the space of just a week. Had to be some kind of a record.

Lucky sat up and hung his head in defeat. It was hopeless, he thought dramatically. He was doomed to have no privacy for the rest of his life!

Splatter pushed his way out of the study and onto the balcony, where he sidled up to Lucky carefully and, after staring at the gloomy little Dalmatian for a bit, sat down beside him. "Are...are you alright?" asked Splatter. He still sounded shy.

Lucky, like most children, didn't think about the things grown-ups would, such as "If I've never met this pup, how does he know my name?" or "Why is he so concerned about an adopted brother he barely knows?". He felt sad, and wanted any attention he could get at the moment, and was too upset to care about how he sounded right now.

"It's only...well..."

In the moment of silence, Splatter perked up and blurted while scratching an ear with a back leg, "I saw you run out of the kitchen. You looked a little upset, and I wondered..." now it was his turn to trail off.

Lucky glanced over at this adopted family member. Splatter was a shade darker white than Lucky was, probably because his fur got stained with all of the messy things this pup must roll in.  Both of his ears had a little dip in the sides, and he had a tuft of fur scraggly sticking up on his head. He wore a red collar like Lucky's dad's, a new one that Nanny had bought the day before. (Imagine, buying collars for so very many Dalmatians!)  

But the most unique thing about Splatter was that nearly all of his spots were shaped like someone had squirted him with an ink pen. There was one particularly large splash-shaped spot on his right ear.

Lucky sighed for the tenth time. "Yes. It's just that, well, my mother and father never have time to do anything with me at all now that--well--" he stopped short, not wanting to hurt Splatter's feelings.

But the other pup seemed to already know. "...Now that we're all here." he finished with a sympathetic tilt to his accented voice.

"Yeah." Lucky glanced at Splatter. "Er, sorry." He wasn't really.

"Oh, that's all right." He picked up one paw, set it down again, and shrugged. "Actually, I think you really ARE 'lucky'."

"What for?" asked Lucky.

Splatter lay down on his stomach and watched the london city below. "To have parents like Mr. Pongo and Mrs. Perdita."

Lucky lay down too and watched Splatter's expression as the pup went on. "When mean old Horace and Jasper came and bought us from our Pet Shop, I didn't get to see my mum and dad anymore."

Lucky felt a little guilty now. "Well...my mother and father aren't all that gr--"

Splatter jumped to his paws, surprising Lucky. "Are you joking? They came all the way across London to save you! Even through the snow and on Christmas!"

Lucky's ears stood up a little. Splatter spoke of his new adopted parents like Lucky's brother, Patch, talked about Thunderbolt.

The dirty little Dalmatian was wagging his tail now. "And they fought those two Baddun brothers, came right through the window! I couldn't believe it!"

Lucky smiled when he remembered how great and big his father's teeth had been when he growled at Jasper that night. He felt foolish for doubting their affections for him.

But now Spatter sighed for a moment. "They were really nice to bring all of us here where it's safe with them."

"Yeah." Lucky agreed again. He didn't think it was so unreasonable for his parents to take in so many kidnapped puppies. He was suddenly proud of them for it.

There was a a bit of silence as Spatter lay down again and they watched the cars chug by on the cobblestone streets beneath them.

Lucky was dragged out of his thoughts of his parents when Spatter suddenly spoke up again. But instead of sounding excited and sympathetic, his adopted sibling sounded uncertain now...and sad. Like he was talking to himself.

"Sometimes...sometimes I wonder if MY mum misses me." It seemed an odd, silly statement to Lucky. He knew his mother had been distraught when he was kidnapped. How could Spatter's mother not be the same?

"Of course she must." he said, confused.

"Well..." Spatter sounded unconvinced. He lifted his head off of where it had been resting on his dirty paws and looked at Lucky. "I thought so too, at first. But...but when we left the Pet Store with Horace and Jasper, me and my brothers and sisters, and they threw us in the back of the truck, my mum didn't even notice."

Lucky felt awkward. He looked away from Spatter's hopeful stare, trying to think of a way to comfort him, to reassure him. "But puppies are bought from the Pet Store all the time, aren't they? My mother says she was. Maybe your mother didn't think anything of it."

Spatter looked down at his paws again. "There's six of us in my litter. Mum lived at the Pet Shop we were born in."

Confused at the direction Splatter was going with this, Lucky cocked his head and decided to just listen instead of ask questions.

Splatter went on, as expected, still talking in a mumble as if to himself. "She was always telling us to be quiet and how to get a pet. A human, you know..." Splatter looked slightly frustrated and gave up on trying to change the topic of conversation. "Lucky, maybe she's had so many puppies before my litter that she doesn't even...well..." he faltered, looking even more troubled than before.

Splatter had cheered Lucky up before. Now little Luck' wanted to return the favor. But he didn't quite know how. "I'm sure she loved you--just, just as much as you love her." He stammered, head cocking so far he looked like a puppy pretending to be an owl. His tail thumped out a puzzled, unsteady rhythm.

"Why didn't she come to rescue us then, like your parents did?"

"Like I said, perhaps she just didn't realize you had been stolen." stammered Lucky.

"But wouldn't she have come to visit by now? Just to check on us, or--or something?" asked Splatter quietly.

Lucky was fresh out of consolations. "I-I...I don't know."

Splatter sighed. There was another long awkward pause, in which Lucky felt sorry for Splatter and wished he could comfort him and Splatter felt lonely and confusedly sad.

Finally, seeming to cheer up, Splatter sat up and thumped his little spotted tail on the balcony twice, mustered up a smile and said, "Well, I hope you feel better. Maybe when we move to the farm you'll have better luck with your parents."

And with that, little Splatter turned and hopped back into the house throughout the window door, but not before Lucky saw his tail droop.

The smallest son of Pongo and Perdita stared after him. Poor Splatter. Suddenly Lucky's one hundred and one problems didn't seem like problems at all anymore. Here he had been moping over silly little stuff and this mucky pup who knew nothing about Lucky had come and taken time just to make him feel better.

And he was right, of course. Pongo and Perdy had set out after them in horrid conditions and hadn't stopped or given up, or even complained a little when they rescued the pups. They had fought off the Baddun brothers like Thunderbolt tore up bad guys, and fooled crazy old Cruella. They were nice enough to bring in 98 puppies no matter the troubles...

And instantly Lucky Dearly knew what to say to his new friend.

***

The attic was full of songwriters papers, music sheets, ink, instruments and the like. What dominated the whole little room was the piano pet Roger played on nearly all day, thinking up new tunes and ditties to earn money for the growing Dearly family. It smelled of dust, laziness, ink, polish, and imagination.

Splatter walked across this paper-strewn mess of a floor with head and tail hanging low. Lucky's plight had gone right out of his mind.

Now, usually, a young child or in this case, puppy, has nothing much in his or her head but playing and laughing and television. If they do happen to think of something other than that, it only lasts for a little while before some other exciting thing whisks it away.

This was normally the case for Splatter, of course, and especially when it came to his mother. In fact, he tried not to think about her if at all possible. If he did, he often missed her.

But up here in this dusty former bachelor's attic, it was quiet. Since the evening had worn on to nighttime, most of the puppies were being bathed (One of Splatter's loathed pastimes.) and told a very noisy bedtime story in the house below. Soon they would stampede up here, all of them, for bed.

But for now, all was silent. No distractions to take Splatter's mind off of his mother.

She HAD always told Splatter and his siblings to be quiet, not to play so often, to sit up straight and let your tongue hang out cutely, ESPECIALLY when a human walked by.

She never washed them like Perdita, Lucky's mother, sometimes did once or twice. She didn't tell them a bedtime story. Even in the only eight weeks (a long time for a puppy) Splatter and the six others had spent with her, he could never recall her playing with them even once.

Splatter sighed. He hopped up onto the piano seat, and from there onto the top of the instrument. The ticking of the clock was the only sound.

When he had left with his brothers and sisters, she never even looked the least bit concerned that two strange men were buying all of her puppies at once. Splatter could remember that Horace and Jasper had to make more than one trip from the truck to the shop to get all six of Splatter's litter.

He  recalled  waving one paw at her over smelly Horace's shoulder as he was carried out and yipping, "I love you, mummy!" along with two of his sisters.

And he remembered the first spark of doubt he had felt when she didn't wave back or reply, simply continued washing herself from the little pen they had spent the first 8 weeks of their lives in.


Splatter didn't like to remember this. But he did remember, all the same.

"I think two are missing, Perdy darling." Pongo's voice came anxiously from downstairs. "I'd better have a look for them.

Splatter didn't move. He looked at himself in the reflection of ink inside an ink pot.

Did mum even remember his name...?

"Splatter!" Lucky bounded into the room.

"Huh?"  Splatter looked down at the horseshoe-patterned spots on Lucky's back as the other dalmatian scrambled to get up onto the piano.

"Splatter," repeated Lucky, breathless with the jump up onto the piano and excitement at the chance to cheer up his adopted sibling. He continued, blurting, "You were right! My mother and father are amazing. They're really great. And I am lucky to have them."

Splatter cocked his head, puzzled. He assumed Lucky was bragging.

Lucky kept on, talking more slowly now, sounding as sympathetic as Splatter had on the balcony only a few minutes before. "And even if your mother wasn't as wonderful as my mom and dad, well, it doesn't matter. Because you're a part of our family now.  My mother and father are YOUR mother and father. And they love you just as much as they love me!"

Splatter's tail wagged. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then the door was nosed open.

Pongo stuck his head in. "Oh, there you are, boys!"

Lucky and Spatter raced across the room as soon as they tumbled off of the piano and threw themselves at their father. Lucky scrambled onto his surprised father's head. Splatter hopped up and down to lick at his Dad's face.

"Goodness, sons, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Pongo.

"It's just good to see you, dad!" giggled Lucky, hopping down to sit next to Splatter, who was nodding ecstatically. The two puppies smiled at each other.

"Oh, hah, well, it's story time, children, and your mother is waiting. Better hurry! Come on, Splatter." Pongo looked amused at the 'silliness' of his kids.

At the sound of his name from his adoptive dad, the dirty dalmatian's tail wagged nearly off his rear end. Pongo knew Splatter's name!

As Pongo led the way out of the room, Lucky leaned over and whispered in Splatter's ear, "You know, something good did come of you others living here. I just thought of it."

"What?" asked Splatter, still smiling.

"I got a new brother." Lucky pounced on Splatter just as they reached the stair top.

Splatter giggled excitedly. "Me too!" he grunted just before they rolled down the stairs, passing right under and between their father's legs.

They laughed and raced each other to story time with their mother, both new brothers lighthearted and happy in a family of 101 gifts.