Cellophane Intruder

I was by the window when I noticed it. It loomed large in the distance, flapping slightly in the draft from the air conditioning vent. I was not sure exactly what it was, but it had invaded my home. It was my own fault really. It must have snuck in while my back was turned; foolish me – I had been distracted by something outside, while the real threat was entering my home. I jumped down from my window perch to get a closer look. I still could not determine what it was, so I made my way closer toward where it sat, on the ledge that divided the kitchen and the living room. As I grew closer, I could see that it was of an unsual shape, and as the breeze from the vent hit it again, it seemed to change form. “A shape-shifter!” I thought. I had heard about such phenomena in science fiction movies, but I did not know that they actually existed.
I moved a little closer, slowly, and crouched down. I began to give it a warning. “Grrrrrr…. get out of my house.” I said in my most menacing voice. But despite my intimidating glare, the thing did not move. It just sat there, refusing to vacate my home. “Leave the premises immediately!” I shouted. But nothing happened. And then I heard giggling coming from the other room; it was my parents. What was wrong with them? An intruder had entered our home, and all my parents could do was to laugh. Had they gone insane with fear? I had always known this would happen. Now it was up to me to take care of us. I would have to resort to my primal roots; prey and hunt, eat uncooked meat, and then drag home the leftovers for them. As I delved further into my daydream of my future life, I heard shuffling behind me. It was Dad. He didn’t exactly look like he had lost his mind, but he was smiling. “Good, reinforcements,” I thought. I let out another deep growl. “We’ve got you now, intruder!” I shouted.
Then Dad did a strange thing. He grabbed the stranger, folded it up, and put it in the closet. Maybe he has gone mad. As long as he can still remember how to feed me though, it will all be alright.










Written by: Pudgy
Copyright 2008 The Pudgy Chronicles

The Young Dog & The Sea

This week we went to Half Moon Bay, which is a little bit south of San Francisco. Pudgy thought he would liven the trip up by running away on the beach. Actually, he has a fear of water. I guess beagles are land-based dogs, and pomeranians find it difficult to stand on anything other than a pillow; so the result is that while Pudgy is somewhat rugged and fearless when it comes to land exploration, the same cannot be said of aquatic adventures.

He seemed relaxed when we first walked onto the beach, and we started walking along the water, but as soon as the first rush of waves came in, Pudgy scooted for the dry shore.

I tried to make him face his fears; I stood with him by the edge of the shore, waiting for the tide to come in, hoping that the water would just rush over our feet and quickly recede, showing Pudgy that there was nothing to be afraid of. But Pudgy was quicker than the tide. As he saw the water approaching, he could not hear my voice telling him there was nothing to be afraid of; all he could hear was the rush of the waves coming to get him. And so he scooted backward, keeping his eyes locked on the menacing sea, and wriggled out of his harness, shoulders first. Then... FREEDOM! Suddenly, freed of the shackles of his leash, Pudgy loved the beach. Off he bounded, down the shore, running between children and their sand castles. "Pudgy!" I shouted, trying not to sound too frantic as I threw down my backpack and began running after him. Pudgy glanced back at me and smiled. "Now this is what I'm talking about!" he seemed to say as he gleefully remained three steps ahead of me. The beach, while not crowded, did have its share of visitors that day. There were beach towels laying about (which, if at home, Pudgy would normally grab and run with); there were sneakers with balled up socks in them (which, if at home, Pudgy would usually have acquired and started to devour); there were even small coolers with tempting treats in them (which, if at home, Pudgy would normally have... well, that one requires no further explanation). But on the beach, Pudgy bypassed all of these temptations; this game was much more fun, and it looked like Mom was having fun too, and getting some much needed exercise.
As we neared the part of the beach where we had entered, and the street with passing cars loomed closer, I considered leaping and tackling Pudgy, but thought that I would probably just miss him, then have to get up and start running again, and by that time he would already have a head start on me. Suddenly, seemingly forgetting his fear of the water, or maybe distracted by the seagull which flapped nearby, Pudgy darted a few steps in the direction of the ocean, before remembering his phobia. He then started back in my direction, and stopped, pretending to sniff something, but I think he was just tired. I pounced on him, and the moment I touched him, he rolled over, seeming to laugh and say "I was just kidding! I wouldn't really run away. Now pick me up, I'm tired!"

Written by: Friend of Pudgy

Copyright 2008 The Pudgy Chronicles