Mr. Jones agreed to take care of Fluffy for a neighbor because the neighbor was going to move to an apartment.
Mrs. Jones complained, “We live in an apartment, too!”
But Mr. Jones was like that.
Just as she thought, he forgot about Fluffy most of the time and she became his caretaker.
Mrs Jones was very angry.
She had to come from a hard days work at a school and clean up newspapers that had been put in the bathroom for fluffy.
Then she had to mop and deodorize the place---every day!
She constantly begged Mr. Jones to find a good home for the dog and he said he was working on it.
Mr. Jones was not a great pet owner and often let Fluffy run about in the apartments parking areas after he got home from work.
One day a car hit him and that was the end of Fluffy.
Mrs. Jones was very angry about the whole situation.
Coming home from school the next evening she saw a strange sight.
The two widowed sisiters who lived across from them were standing in front of her apartment.
They held a big flower design with Fluffys name on it. Also they had cards of sympathy and condolences from each of them and one from their dog, Jilly, too.
Mrs. Jones was perplexed.
The woman began crying loudly, “Oh Fluffy! Poor Fluffy!”
Mrs Jones hurried and rushed them inside the apartment before someone called the Cops.
They sat down with their beloved dog and began what would become the funeral for Fluffy.
They had made out several programs and started with a song and scripture.
Then they brought out the hymnals and sang about four selected hymms-All of the verses of every song!
Then came the Eulogy.
As Mrs Jones looked on, she thought of many ways that she was going to make Mr. Jones life miserable. He should be the ones at this strange funeral that went on and on and on...
After about two hours, Mrs. Jones began to stretch and look at her watch and did other things to indicate she wanted the funeral to wind up, but the sweet little old sisters continued.
Next they read dog poetry and prose and testified about the cute things Jilly does to amuse them.
Mrs. Jones looked at Jilly, lying on his back, feet in the air, asleep on her couch. That was one spoiled dog!
Then Mrs. Jones looked at the clock in alarm. It was nearly seven! The last game of the World Series was coming ontonight!
Where was Mr. Jones?
Across the way at his friends apartment waiting for the World Series to come on. There was no way he was coming home with those little old ladies there.
After a while, Mrs. Jones couldn’t help it. She got up in the middle of a cherished recording of dogs barking "Jingle Bells" and turned on the TV. The sisters gasped.
Mrs. Jones looked around, “What!”
They were so shocked. “How can you watch television at a time like this?
Mrs. Jones defended herself.
“We have had Fluffy’s funeral!
We have fellowshipped for a long time, and now I have got to get on with my day.
“And…and..this is not television. This is the World Series. Last game!”
The little old ladies were insulted.
They jumped up and snatched the sleeping Jilly off the couch.
Mrs. Jones thought they might take back the flower design they had ordered for Fluffy, but they didn’t.
One of the ladies came back inside to leave a final heated remark.
“My sister and I don’t think you loved Fluffy half as much as you pretended you did. If you did you would be still in mourning. Goodbye!”
Mrs. Jones shook her head, closed the door and prayed a prayer,
“Lord, if I handled that wrong, help me, forgive me. I loved Fluffy, too, and tried to help him, but a two hour funeral is just too long for a dog, especially on the day of the last game of the World Series, Amen.”
Now, Play Ball!
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