Reality Show Craziness Grabs Our Sylvia

Sylvia
By Anne Sullivan

“Good morning, Sylvia. How are you this fine day?” Opening the front door, I greeted Sylvia with unaccustomed cheer when she and a lot of cold air burst into the house.
“Busy, busy,” she replied. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Souffle de kibble et les biscuits du chien,” I answered as she raced to her favorite dish in the kitchen.
Wrenching a biscuit from my fingers, she ordered. “Hurry up. Times a’ wasting. Gotta get going.”
“Going doing what?”
“I’ll need paper and a pen,” Sylvia said as she chomped. “I’ve got to get to work on my Reality Show.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you were going to be in a Reality Show and who’s driving you there, wherever there is?”
“I’ll have a chauffer with a limousine.”
“Not on this road, you won’t.”
“I haven’t exactly got the job yet,” she said, ignoring my retort, ”but you have to admit I’m a shoo-in.”
“How so?”
“The Canine Factor. I haven’t heard of a Canine Reality Show yet but it’s a well-known fact that everyone likes dogs. I just have to think of something new and electrifying to base this Reality Show on.”
“There’s losing weight,” I suggested. “That’s very popular these days and you’re certainly built for it.”
“Too trite. What else is there?”
“Some have tried taking off in a flying saucer but you’re not built for that at all. A dance contest?”
Sylvia shook her head. “No good. I have four left feet. I rather fancy something along the lines of an eating contest. Maybe something like sampling pigs’ ears all over the country. They could be hidden and we contestants would have to find them using a GPS.”
“That sounds good. Do you have a GPS?”
“No, but you do. I could borrow yours.”
“Do you know how to use a GPS?”
“No, but you could show me.”
“Think again.”
As soon as Sylvia finished gobbling her breakfast, she grabbed the paper and pen I’d laid out for her and dashed to her bed to concentrate.
Soon the deep contented sound of canine snoring filled the room.
Time passed and I must have dropped off as I read the paper, but my snooze was violently interrupted when Sylvia suddenly screamed, “I have it! I know what we’ll do!”
“Do about what?” I mumbled, startled into dropping my paper.
“The Reality Show. Don’t you remember ANYTHING?”
“Not much,” I admitted.
Sylvia spoke loudly and slowly, “For hours and hours I’ve been trying to think of a subject for my Reality Show. Now I’ve got it. This is, if I do say so myself, a superb idea.”
“Am I going to hear what this wonderful idea is?”
“But, of course, Boss.” Here she paused to heighten the suspense. “What do dogs do?”
“They eat,” I said. “Some dogs eat a lot.”
“No,” Sylvia shouted. “What else do they do?”
“Sleep?”
“Incorrect. You have one more guess.”
“Let’s see. Pee and –“
“Wrong!” Sylvia cut me off. “They dig.”
“Yes, they dig. So?”
“So we’ll have a Reality Show Contest. Each dog will dig a hole to China. The first one to emerge in Shanghai gets the prize.”
“China’s a long way off. Do you think any dog can make it that far?”
Sylvia didn’t have to pause to consider before answering, “With the right prize as an incentive, I’m sure I could. How do you say hello in Chinese?”
“Ni hao.”

Reality Show Craziness Grabs Our Sylvia