Wow. So. This is new. Don't be mad and make too much fun of me, either. But, I wrote a story. It's really short. I'd love for the www to read it, if anyone wants to. If not, just tell me nicely and I won't post another. I doubt there will even be another one, so?don't even worry about it.

I had a dream that I was in this Scottish castle, standing by a HUGE fireplace, talking about Dr. Phil with a Dalmation and Tabby cat. The cat hated Dr. Phil and wanted to attack him in his sleep. The dog didn't seem to care one way or the other about Dr. Phil, but was super concerned about when his master was going to be home. He wasn't scared of his master coming home or anything. He just missed him really badly.

So, when I woke up, I decided to write a little story. If you're not so sure you're interested in seeing what kind of story I can come up with, I'll tell you it's been very highly reviewed already. Teenie said it was "more fun than what they make us read in school." I'll take it.

Hope you (kinda) like it.

Also hope everyone is having a great new year.¹
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The fire crackled and hissed as the Cat and the Dog laid, all curled up, on the warm brick in front of the not small fireplace on the far wall of the family room. It was mostly just embers by that point?but it had never been hotter. And the Dog and the Cat appreciated that fact.

"This might be as hot as it's ever been," the Dog said.

"You'd know better than I would about that," the Cat responded without opening his eyes. "This being my first winter and all. But this is a restaurant quality fire, if you ask me. Grade A."

The Dog lifted her head off the brick and looked at the Cat, whose eyes were still closed.

"You've never been in a restaurant, have you?" she asked.

"No," the Cat said simply. "I heard the Boy say that about a glass of lemonade the Woman made for him the other day...pink lemonade...so I thought I'd give it a try here?when we were talking about the fire. I think it just means something's really good."

"He doesn't play fetch with me as much as he used to...the Boy."

The Dog began licking her black spotted paws.

"You sound just like a woman," the Cat said as he flipped himself on to his back.

"The woman?" the Dog asked. "Our Woman?" She flipped her snout in the direction of the kitchen, which was separated from the family room by a long, marble counter top. "Her?"

"The...A...Our?whatever. 'He doesn't...(fill in the blank)...as much as he used to'. Such a chick thing to say...I'm telling you, it's true. You probably remember him playing fetch a lot more than you actually played fetch."

"Only because I'm warm and I'm tired am I going to let that comment slide."

"Don't do me any favors," the Cat said.

"Never have, never will," the Dog assured him. "And you sound ridiculous using slang and phrases like 'don't do me any favors' and 'restaurant quality'. I just thought you should know."

"Noted," said the Cat.

"And 'noted'."

"I'm not worried about it," the Cat said, giving all indication that he meant it.

From a kitchen, a crash of a shattering salad bowl. The Cat leapt to his feet and readied himself for any kind of escape he might need to make. "Dagnabit!" said the Man from the kitchen. "I'll get the gosh darn dust pan."

The Dog, whose head had raised at the noise but who did not move from her spot, slowly lowered her chin back down onto the brick. She smiled and looked at the Cat out of the corner of her eye. She yawned.

"You OK there, sport?" she asked, oh-so-casually.

"Don't call me that, Dog."

"Feisty."

"You'll have yourself a nice bloody snout if you egging me on, " he said, yawning as well.

"You make me tired and that's the only reason I like you."

"OK."

He yawned again. "I mean it."

The fire popped some more. The Dog wished the Boy would come over and put one more log on and stay up and watch TV; Or even better, that the Man would drop one or two pieces of coal on the embers and talk about how "that's how you really keep a fire hot"...and then stay up and watch TV with the Boy. After a minute, the Dog stood up, walked in a tight circle and sat down, facing the kitchen.

"I think they've clocked out for the night, Dog. I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"My hopes aren't up," she said dismissively, even though it wasn't true. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"They're always up. You're a dog."

The Dog knew it was true as she slowly laid back down, still facing the kitchen.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" the Dog asked, reserved.

"Maybe right here. Although...there's nothing worse than falling asleep with his warmth and then waking up two hours later and I'm freezing my paws off and it's dark as all hell." The Dog nodded a knowing nod. "So I might try to sleep on the vent in the Woman's walk-in closet, but she's been checking on me there a lot lately and God knows I don't need that. Maybe on the piano bench. I know that's weird, but I like it. Maybe in the Man's leather chair. To answer your question: I'm not sure. You calling dibs on something?"

"Whatever," the Dog sighed.

"Don't pout."

"I'm not."

She was.

The lights in the kitchen began disappearing, and this caught the animals' eyes. The both perked their ears up, waiting. Yes, even the Cat.

The Woman walked out of the kitchen and through the family room. "Make sure this fire won't burn the house down," she said as she walked through another door on the other side of the room.

"Gotcha," the Man said as he entered shortly thereafter. He gave the fire a once over and followed the Woman through the doorway.

The Cat had already fallen back asleep. Only one kitchen light remained on. The Dog's ears remained at attention?one slightly creased and cattywomped. The Boy came through, munching on a piece of peanut brittle as his lanky body loafed through the family room.

He never broke stride. He never looked at the Dog. She stood and shook her head and body, straightening out her ear.

After he had walked through the doorway and out of her sight, he whistled and clicked three times. The Dog's eyes lit up like the burning embers as she sprinted out of the room, struggling to keep her paws under her, following the Boy's call, and leaving the Cat alone by the fire.


¹Oh, and no bowtie for Bill for Christmas, but I couldn't disagree more about a man never looking good in a bowtie. It just takes the right man. And, no. We don't drink caffeine. Hot water with lemon, mostly. Good question, though.