Prompt: Write a scene from an imaginary biography of a pet. It can be yours or, like Virginia Woolf [who wrote a 'biography' about Elizabeth Barrett Browning's dog], a take on the secret life of someone else’s pet. Extra points for parody, or if it’s written from the pet’s perspective.
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...It is some years, or maybe only months, that we have been alone, nameless, friendless, without any of the safety one gets from family, friends, and accomplices. There is no reality anymore. It's just a very lonely, helpless feeling - a kind of desolate feeling, but also honestly kind of great.
For this reason, we regret our choice of companion on this strange journey. A smelly old derelict mutt known as Charlie. Or Charles Barkley, Gnarls, Charles Manson, Cujo, or Goddammit Dog, depending on the circumstances of his behavior. He was born in Utah on a farm on the outskirts of the Cache Valley, the unlikely offspring of a fluffy house dog and a horny cattle dog. While he knows a little mutt English, he responds to commands only in the quiet confines of our home, and quite literally cannot even when he is overstimulated by the outside world.
He is quite large for a neurotic lap dog, more than 50 pounds of outrageous fluff and raw nerve endings. He is black and tan when clean and close-cropped; he resembles an old gray mop when disheveled, which is to say most of the time.
Charlie is a born coward. He prefers losing is g.d. mind and going utterly ape when confronted with such adversaries as Bichons, UPS trucks, or small children. Only a handful of times in his nearly 8 years has he maintained his composure, usually when he is very tired from physical exertion or freshly dosed with canine anxiety meds.
But he is a good watch dog - that much is true. He has a roar like an unhinged lion, designed to conceal from night-wandering strangers that he is frequently beaten into submission by the dainty paws of a 13-pound tabby cat.
He is a faithful friend but an atrocious traveling companion, vomiting in the tightest, most difficult-to-clean crevices of any vehicle he enters. He would prefer to incessantly lick his paws or thrash about on his back, beseeching nearby humans for a belly rub, than anything else in this world.
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