Excerpt from ms of 28,156 words, 214 pages

I arrived at the SPCA to complete my first week. Everything was as usual for the past four days, kennel staff congregated outside the supervisor’s office, waiting for their first assignment of the day.

I was partnered with Josh, charged with cleaning B Kennel. To the “boot room” we adjourned, collecting the necessary supplies and accoutrements to begin our task.

Tramping back to B Kennel, fumbling towels, buckets and what-not in poorly chosen rubber boots too large for my feet, I dumped my equipment and clunked back to the boot room to exchange the industrial waders for a smaller pair.

Coming out of the boot room with a more appropriate size, I looked over to D Kennel to greet some of the rescues.

In the first stall was a short haired brown-and-white Chihuahua everyone called Momma, who had been rescued with a starving litter of four. With her since their arrival was one of her litter, a tiny black-and-white twelve week-old puppy, Baby -- the only survivor among his three siblings.

She was especially sweet, greeting anyone who walked by with a wagging tail and a proud introduction of her puppy, always mimicking her stance, situated right against her chest with his nose twitching away.

Through the day, every single employee and volunteer would take time to visit them, praising Momma and fawning over Baby.

They would play happily together, making whoever watched them smile ear to ear. During nap time, Baby curled up under Momma, who popped her head up on guard at any unfamiliar noise, then nuzzle his tiny head before settling back to sleep.

During meals, they shared from the same dish; Momma always making sure that Baby got his fill and would groom him proudly...whatever Momma did, Baby was right there with her.

But today, Baby wasn’t in the kennel with Momma.

I sought out a treatment staffer, asking where Baby was.

“He’s being fostered.” She answered.

Fostered?

It meant Baby wasn’t going to be placed for adoption, as he needed special care; what’s more is that Momma would be placed for adoption, once she was healthy enough.

I looked over at Momma as she nervously paced, whining for her only baby. I approached her and put my fingers through the fencing, trying to lend some comfort, “How you doing Momma?"

Although she accepted my attention, her whimpers continued – she wanted her baby – her sad brown eyes imploring for his return.

With my heart in my throat from pity, I pet her…“I know Momma, you miss your baby – I certainly know how that feels.”

The Practical Joke (TV commercial concept)

Outside; Grandma seen leashing dog

Cut to inside looking into kitchen from dinning room.

Kids crouched behind couch giggling, one calls the dog from outside but dog is tethered on leash and cannot run inside; scotch tape tacked ankle height across kitchen entryway with bone in the foreground as bait.

Grandma walks into kitchen from outside and takes cookies out of oven; sits two plates stacked with cookies next to COOKIE MIX on counter.

“Kids, Grandma made her cookies for you!” Begins to carry one plate of cookies out of kitchen to dinning room

Kids look at each other, panic and run to remove scotch tape.

Cut to outside, dog is pulling leash from anchor.

Return inside

Kids arrive too late…Grandma is tripping over tape; kids gasp as they watch. Thud sound, a pause and then kids begin to cheer.

One kid shown standing up with full plate of cookies and raises them over his head.

Switch to dinning room.

Kids sitting at table and empty plate in front of them with milk glasses half full.

Mom walking in from garage, sees remaining plate of cookies on counter next to COOKIE MIX.

Cut back to outside, dog is nearly free from leash.

Mom to kids, “I see Grandma made her cookies!” (Picks up remaining plate of cookies and walks toward dinning room.)

Before kids can warn her, Mom trips over Grandma (still laying on floor).

Gasps come from dinning room, and then cheering as dog can be seen clutching full plate of cookies with big smile on face.

Splash page to COOKIE MIX

End

Will Work for Food (TV commercial concept)

Inside kitchen

Kid pulls a post-it note from refrigerator reading “Mow lawn”

Kid sighs and yells to upstairs, “Ahh, do I have to?”

Mom answers, “It’s your turn!”

Kid complains, “But I don’t want to!”

Mom entering kitchen says, “Not even for food product?” and pulls food product from pantry.

Outside

Kid can be seen raking leaves, mowing lawn, weed eating, edging, trimming and sculpting hedges in quick action montage.

Cut back to kitchen

Kid finishing food product with product placement on table.

Match-cut to food product in neighbor’s grocery bag as neighbor walks from car.

Neighbor answers to door bell ring.

Kid says, “Hey Misses J, would you like me to mow your lawn?" Eyeing food product in grocery bag on kitchen counter.

Dusk

Camera pans around neighborhood, all lawns cut and manicured; several children are in yards holding, “Will Work for Food” signs.

End