December 23, 2019 | Posted in Fictitious Presidential Pets Stories

Pauline Wayne isn’t entirely sure what to do. On one hand, she would rather get this over and done with before a human comes inside and spots a strange cow in the White House stables. On the other hand, it’s awfully rude to just barge into someone’s time stream and wake them up while they’re trying to get some sleep.

It’s an awful dilemma and one that Pauline Wayne muses on as she walks over to the stall with Apollo’s name on it. Eventually, Pauline Wayne comes to the conclusion that she would rather get this done with before a human comes along to make it more difficult, and calls out, “Apollo? I know you’re trying to sleep, but I need to talk to you.”

There’s no answer.

From his stall across the way, Old Whitey snorts. “That’s never going to work. He’s sleeping. That means he’s in a mood.”

Pauline Wayne doesn’t ask what that means, largely because she doesn’t like the tone that Old Whitey says it in. Instead, she calls out, louder, “I think you and I both know that the only way I’m leaving is if you get up and come talk to me. I don’t fancy being stuck in this time forever, you know. I had plans for the day.”

Those plans included eating some really, really nice grass.

Pauline Wayne doesn’t mention that.

The less you know is a saying somewhere, right? She thinks so, maybe.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, because Apollo is still quiet.

“See?” Old Whitey sounds remarkably smug, considering he’s the one in a stall and Pauline Wayne is out loose. “In a mood. I told you.”

“You also said you weren’t who I was here to help, so hush.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hush,” repeats Pauline Wayne, firmly. Then, with a flick of her tail, she calls into Apollo, “I gave you fair chance, and I apologize in advance.”

Old Whitey asks, “what are you about to do? I’d think it through better.”

Pauline Wayne ignores him. She still doesn’t like his tone. Instead, she turns around, so her rear is right up against the stall door, and she gives it a single good, solid kick.

The latch breaks. The door swings open. And there is Apollo, wide eyed and staring, ears pinned back against his thick, unkempt mane. Ponies always have wild manes, and his is no exception.

Pauline Wayne turns back around to face him. Casual as can be, Pauline Wayne says, “there now. Without that pesky door in the way, we can have a proper conversation. I hope you don’t mind, but it didn’t seem like you could hear me through the door. And since the Room sent me here, it was very important you heard me.”

Apollo swallows, hard. Ears still pinned back, he says, “no, no. That’s…fine.”

“Good,” says Pauline Wayne. “Now scoot. Let me in there so we can talk.”

 

Katelynn E Koontz – Author

Enjoy this fun fictitious series of stories about some actual Presidential Pets! To learn more about the actual Presidents’ companions click on the logo below to go to the Presidential Pet Museum’s website!

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