“No, I’m telling you….She won’t,” Al said, forcefully. “She knows.”
“I don’t believe you!” Becky complained from across his small kitchen table, over the small bowl of fruit sitting in front of Al.
“Okay, watch,” said Al.
He turned to the side and looked down at his little dog, a white mixed breed, sitting and staring at him hopefully. Her eyes were huge, awaiting some small morsel of food to be thrown her way for a treat. Al grabbed at one of the melon pieces in the bowl and threw it to Lilly. When it landed, Lilly at first rushed over, tail ever wagging, then sniffed it momentarily, snorted and walked away to her bed. She ambled into it, curled up in a ball and appeared to sulk.
Becky broke out laughing. “Oh, my God! That’s too funny!”
“Now, watch this,” said Al. He went to the refrigerator and took out a brand new melon, plopped it onto the counter and made a few slices out of it. “She’ll eat this one,” he said. “This one came from the Farmer’s Market.” It was the exact same type of melon.
He went over to Lilly on her bed, tossed the new melon down on the carpet nearby. She rushed up, sniffed it—then scarfed it up.
“Oh, my God,” said Becky again, now sounding quite impressed. “You’re right: She can tell a difference with cloned fruit.”
* This is part of a flash fiction collection as part of blog posts. More flash fiction is available here.