A dog in the snow

©MCD

My name is Albi. They named me like that apparently because I’m so white it reminds them of an albino, something which I find unfair to both albinos and me because neither of us can help that we are so pale-coloured.

I am one year old. That’s what my humans tell others whenever they are asked how old I am. I don’t understand why it matters at all, though. Does the number justify something? Do they understand something from a simple digit? I have yet to comprehend the concept of age.

I get excited about things. Anything really. But that doesn’t land well with humans. They seem to enjoy yelling a lot of ‘don’ts’. But whenever they want me to actually do something their voice changes to a screeching sound that is not very pleasant despite what they think of it.

I love the outdoors. It’s boring inside. But sometimes my humans don’t have the energy for long explorations like the ones I like and we only walk around for a few minutes. However, whenever it’s time to return, they show me their watch – as if I can tell time – and insist that it’s been half an hour already and that we’ve already been out four times that day. So? At least I’m helping them get some exercise instead of lying on the couch or in bed or being seated in a chair all day. They should be grateful for our walks.

Today was snow day. We came to the mountains to play with the snow. I consented to come along too. Nobody asked if my feet were cold. Sure, they wear mittens and gloves to throw around this ice-cold white stuff that’s all over the place. But they haven’t even considered asking if my paws were frozen. Good thing that we rested in a hut for an hour and I could thaw them in front of the fireplace.

I posed for a few photos for passers-by in the meantime. I like how they get all excited with me. It feels nice to make people happy simply by existing – by being you. And I like being me.

All in all, it was a fun and full day.

I was told that once we returned home, we wouldn’t go out again until the next morning. It sounded ominous, like a warning. But I understand – humans don’t have the stamina we do.  I’ll concede this time. They need their rest. They’ll be sitting on a chair all day tomorrow in front of a screen. It seems like hard work judging by all the coffee they consume and the constant sighing. Good thing I offer them frequent breaks to get outside. They could be happier about it, though.

Now that I think about it, I’m off for a nap too.

Getting lost

“Have you ever sent someone in the wrong direction?”

I stared at her, troubled, not knowing what to answer. Or rather, how to answer that politely.

Jenna was amazed at how many people would ask me for directions on a single outing. And that’s in a neighbourhood I don’t even know very well. Heck, I don’t even know my own neighbourhood.

“What do you mean?” I responded perplexed.

“I consider it an achievement if someone asks me something and I actually know where it is to tell them!”

I’m the kind of person who gets lost two blocks down their house.

Yes, it happens.

When you have absolutely no sense of orientation whatsoever, getting lost is the easiest, simplest, and the most rational thing that can happen to you.

I was once told to “just continue straight ahead down the road” to the Metro station, and I got lost somehow, having to ask Google, the GPS, and a passer-by for help, in order to reach the desired destination 15 minutes later.

It happens.

And it is absolutely natural.

We’re not all born with a tracking system or a compass inside our heads.

It’s not easy finding your way around.

It’s actually an accomplishment getting somewhere without a GPS, and if you manage to go alone (helpless) a second time around, it is really something to be proud of. Let alone if you take a different route to get there.

So, you can just imagine the confidence booster it is when someone asks you for directions and you genuinely know the correct answer to help them get there.

Of course, you’ll get a few people lost first before you consolidate the route in your head to be able to pass on the knowledge.

But that’s just something that happens too.

The dumb things we do to remain sane

“What is the stupidest thing you ever did?”

She was stunned by the question. This was the first thing he thought of asking her the very first time he even met her? How strange.

Yet, she smiled, blushed, got embarrassed, all at once.

She had done a lot of stupid things. But he didn’t have to know about them.

She had to respond though, and in a flash, all the dumb actions, which at the time seemed perfectly logically, swerved through her mind.

How many silly things have you done? And what exactly comprises as silly? Because all our actions at their time of their development don’t appear to be illogical. It is only after they unfold and their impact is felt that their irrationality also becomes apparent.

The thing is, we all need some craziness in our lives. To dare to do something different, even if it is a simple change of route on the return way home; taking a weekend trip on an impulse; or just ordering something you’ve never eaten off a menu.

It is only by doing something you’ve never done before that life will reward you by taking you somewhere you’ve never been. You never know what pleasant surprise may be awaiting you at the end of that different path.

Like Aristotle said: “No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness”.

“Some may never live, but the crazy never die” – Hunter S. Thompson

Cat-like

Women are like cats. They like attention but not too much and on their terms, are independent and self-sustainable, move around a room like they own it, like to sleep as much as possible, like to cuddle but only when they want to, and can disappear for hours doing their own thing with no-one really knowing what that is.

Women are like cats in that they can claw their way out of a fight, just as easily as they can start one.

But most of all, they are like cats in the sense that they can reciprocate the love you show them and be the source of your serenity.

Charity was the most cat-like girl Jessop had ever met. He could almost swear to hear her purr when she fell asleep in his arms. She fought for her autonomy and demonstrated that she could handle her affairs on her own. But every now and again she would crawl to his side and press into his chest for a tight hug, something that would make all the troubles she didn’t share just go away.

Jessop liked that she was dynamic and feisty. But he loved it more when she became the vulnerable, chirpy girl he fell in love with. After all, every man adores being the protector of his girl.

But over the past weeks, something happened. It was as if the cat inside her curled up and hid from the world. She wouldn’t talk much, her smile had faded and she barely ate. She wouldn’t respond to his questions, even getting agitated by them and would retreat to her bed, sleeping more than the usual hours.

One morning, Jessop woke up to find a note on his bedstand:

“If I show you I need you, take it seriously. It means more than just the words you understand. I do whatever I can to never have to depend on anyone, to avoid showing weakness and fear. But if I tell you I need you by my side, it means I am trusting you to catch me when I fall”.

The note was stained with droplets of tears.

Jessop sprung out of bed, got dressed and left.

He knew where she was. Cats always have a safe place. Somewhere they think no-one knows about, but if you follow them closely they’ll let you find them.

Cat in a bag

He hadn’t been around for days now and Mrs Claus was getting worried. He was the smallest of the litter, although the feistiest one and,truth be told, he was her favourite.

But it was three days now that he had not shown up, not even during feeding times. She had asked his mother and brothers, but would only get a vague reply from his sister. She was probably just asking for more food.

She looked everywhere for him. In the toy factory, in the elves’ dorms, in the sleigh, in the kitchen, in the cupboards, in the sweet shops, everywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. And the worse part was that no-one else had seen him either.

Mrs Claus decided she had to call for reinforcements.

So she told Santa that her favourite kitten had gone missing.

“What if he’s been catnapped? He was the cutest of the lot,” she said in despair.

“No, no, he is around here somewhere,” Santa tried to reassure her.

They called out his name, rang bells and food plates, but nothing.

They even asked the reindeer, but to no avail.

As snow began to fall heavier outside, Mrs Santa became all the more worried that he was somewhere alone and cold.

But then, just as it happens with all things you look too hard for and then you find them when you stop searching – the little cat appeared on its own.

It was Santa who first spotted him when he saw his toy bag juddering on the sleigh. He knew it was not any of the toy robots, because they had no batteries installed. As he raised the opening of the bag slightly to peek inside, he saw two bright eyes staring back at him. They were accompanied by a faint “meow”. One that Mrs Claus heard, however, and rushed over just in time to see the little lion walk merrily out of the bag, unaware of all the commotion he had caused.

Sometimes it’s the smallest things that cause your heart to skip a few beats. It is only then that  you acknowledge their importance.

Cat prints

She may have been sleeping when the human brought the cake in the previous night, but she soon realised there was something going on in the house. Phone calls, secret card writing, the sound of wrapping paper… there was a lot of hassle around.  And it wasn’t easy to lie somewhere undisturbed and out of the way. Plus there was the added annoyance that no one was paying any attention to her.

She meowed a few times, but all the people who had somehow gathered in the house simply ‘shooed’ her away with that irritating high-pitched-supposedly-sweet tone of voice.

Surprisingly, the humans went to sleep early that night. Perhaps they were preparing something for the next day. She had to find out what it was. And most of all, she had to discover what had been snuck into the house.

On the kitchen table, there was something inedible like numbers. It didn’t taste very good with the first lick so she left them there. But how do you get into the fridge. A few days ago, she had found a strange way of opening the fridge door. It had taken a lot of effort. Good thing she had spent most of the day sleeping under the living room table. She had all the energy required to jump up and down until that door finally opened. And… there it was. Right in the middle of the fridge. If she stood on her back legs alone she could see it. It was round and white with a few colours. It seemed creamy. If she could just stick her tongue onto it and taste it. But she lost balance and her right paw fell onto the side of the cake. She barely saw her paw print on the white rim before the kitchen lights were abruptly turned on and someone walked in yawning. She managed to quickly sneak under the table and then run out of the room just as the waking person realised the new print on the cake.

The scream woke the entire house up.

But that didn’t stop the humans from having a very loud and festive birthday party.

The cat spent the day under the bed.

Helping the economy

There is a saying that “men go shopping to get want they want; women go shopping to find out what they want”. In fact, females don’t have a very favourable reputation when it comes to shopping. Because put plainly, women can shop all the time, regardless of how much money they (don’t have) and they can never have enough of anything, especially shoes and clothes.

Men supposedly also have a special characteristic – that of being able to constrain themselves. But women…well, when they go shopping, it is very very easy to get carried away. And they more often than not do.

With the advent of online shopping, moreover, it has become all the more easier to get overexcited and buy more things that you need or sometimes can even afford.

Shopping for women has become a form of therapy; something men cannot understand. And this is where the gender differences become more apparent. Because it all comes down to the fact that women are excited to receive something new, even if they spend half their paycheck to get it. And despite visiting numerous stores in search of that perfect – affordable, if possible – item, they will always return to the one they saw first that may have a three-digit price tag, simply because it is a well-known fact that it is the first-view-first-click that will please you the most.

Yes, women are weird. Maybe a bit high-maintenance at times. And very often insane. But they are the ones that fill this world with sunshine. Because no man ever complained when the woman standing next to him looks glamorous wearing all the things she just spent her (or his) wage on

The biscuit thief

He was pint-sized and looked much younger than he really was. But that actually helped him because no one really took him for a thief.

Simon was a strange type of burglar. He would sneak into kitchens – be it of houses or of shops – and steal biscuits. Freshly-cooked-still-hot-deliciously-smelling-so-tasty cookies were his favourite.

He couldn’t help it. As soon as he sensed even the slightest smell of just-baked biscuits he had to go in. And he took a whole bunch of them with him. Simon had a sweet tooth. But he also had a compulsive urge to steal cookies. He didn’t eat them all at once. Some he even shared with other people – family, friends, even with people on the street.

In his neighbourhood, people began to search for the biscuit thief; then his activity spread throughout the city, and the news was even broadcast on TV.

But Simon was not obstructed. He continued unhindered, and un-caught. This was his thing. To find freshly made cookies and steal them to enjoy on his own time.

One day, however, he ran into the chef just at the time when he was sneaking out of a patisserie kitchen with a bag of biscuits in his hand. Both froze on the spot and stared at each other, the chef’s eyes rolling from Simon’s eyes to the bag in his hand.

“So you’re the infamous biscuit thief?” the chef finally said in a French accent.

Simon gulped. Could he go to jail for stealing biscuits?

The chef had a better proposition, though. He offered Simon the position of official biscuit-taster in the patisserie. Soon, the shop elevated to becoming the city’s best biscuit-maker and was renowned throughout the country.

Sometimes things do happen for a reason; and even if the initial reason is unclear, life has a strange way of working itself out.

A parrot in space

Once upon a super moon, there was a young boy who dreamt of being an astronaut. No adult ever paid attention to his dream because it was considered a typical fantasy of any child. But the boy remained resolute and throughout his education worked towards achieving its realization.

Upon completing his studies as an honor student given his thirst and determination to succeed, he was lucky enough to be approached by NASA. And he soon found himself at the doorstep of his dream.

After years of training, as required by protocol, he was called to man the Agency’s mission to Mars. The first of its kind. But the young man did not want to go alone. So he was told he could be an exception and bring along a pet. The young man searched hard for who could accompany him to this long and arduous journey.

Be it fate, or a simple coincidence, when his old lady neighbor found out about his achievement she was so overjoyed that she gave him her pet parrot to take with him to space. His name was Peri. And he had recently lost his girl companion. “He could use some lifting up,” the old lady said.

The parrot had a strong yet elegant appearance. Green from head to toe, his feathers had strips of blue and his tail featured strings of red, yellow, orange and purple, making him as exotic as impressive to look at. At the sight of the young boy, the parrot jolted and yelled “Honey”, “Help!”. The boy panicked and turned to the old lady. She was looking at him calmly with a senile apathy that is common at that age. She smiled and told him not to worry. “Honey was the name of his girl companion. She became sick and we couldn’t get to her in time as it was vacation season and we were away often. That is why he still calls out help. He feels somewhat guilty for her demise”. She paused then said, “I think outer space would be good for him. A change of scenery always works to get your mind off things”. The boy decided to take the parrot.

Years passed before they landed on Mars. All the while, the parrot often screeched the only two words he knew and despotically refused to learn any more – different – words. Once on the red planet, the man suited up and dressed the parrot in a specially made suit too. He proposed the parrot be the first to step on the new planet. It would be an interesting twist, as well as acting as a safety net for the young astronaut. No one could predict what they would find out there. He pushed the parrot out the spacecraft door, but the winged animal would not budge. After a while, the man resigned the effort and extended his right leg to step outside. That is when a flutter was heard and the parrot skid past his head and made a leap onto the alien planet. His webbed feet were the first to make a footprint. The boy smiled and followed.

They weren’t to remain too long outside. Their mission was to collect a sample from the planet’s surface, take pictures and leave. The technology would do the rest. The boy told the parrot not to wander off too far. Three minutes later, he found the parrot mouthing his two words. But he was not alone.

A red creature, around the parrot’s size was standing right opposite it. It had the parrot’s features. A small head, long body, wing-like hands but four sturdy yet stick-like legs. The astronaut tried to approach but with every step forward he made, the alien parrotoid moved back. So he decided to remain in place and take pictures as evidence.  In an instant, though, just as suddenly as it appeared, the alien vanished. And the parrot voluntarily retreated into the spacecraft.

Back on earth, a very long journey later, the parrot was lauded as a hero, just as much as the young astronaut was praised for successfully achieving his mission. But as soon as he was reunited with his old lady owner, the parrot collapsed and passed away in her hands. He had already survived beyond his expected life span.

The young man reported on their Martian encounter, building up excitement and expectations before he revealed the photos. He hadn’t said anything so far. He wanted it to be a surprise when he landed home. But the photographs were not as expected. Peri the parrot was in all of them. The red parrotoid was in none.

As a result, no-one believed the young astronaut. And no matter what he said or how much he tried, there was no way of proving what he saw. He was the only one who would ever know what he and the first ever parrot in space experienced on a planet millions of light years away from ours.

Chasing Pokémon

“Come on, we need to catch ‘em now!”  Mitch grabbed his phone and headed towards the door. His anxiety was evident as his hand transferred his tremor onto the open door. His wife did not share the agony.

She still hadn’t caught the two Pokémon hiding in the house.

But Mitch saw there were many more outside roaming the neighbourhood. It was obvious from the number of cars parked in the street and the hoard of dazed young people walking around like zombies searching for imaginary creatures that appeared randomly on their phones.

With every vibrate, you would hear a scream and then witness a leap forward.

They were all obviously seeing something that any person out of the Pokémon Go loop would not understand.

People had been caught Pokémon & driving, which was far worse than drunk driving because at least in the latter case the driver’s eyes were on the road, even if his/her mind wasn’t.

People had been falling over, bumping into trees, with each other, or even being hit by cars exactly because they were too busy being dragged around the routes depicted on their phone, rather than be aware of their actual surroundings.

But there were also those who found friends, even romance, through the Pokémon gatherings. Those who discovered excitement in this shared habit, no matter how addictive it got.

Mitch was still impatient. His wife had now slid under the bed and was desperately trying to throw a ball at a Pikachu sneering at her from the corner.

“Will you please hurry up?” Mitch called out.

Martha stepped in through the open door. She was about to apologise for being late because of the traffic that had gathered in the area. But when she saw what was going on with the owners of the house she was employed to maintain in order, her jaw dropped. The disorder was reminiscent of the impact of an earthquake. Even the couch – which she so dexterously vacuumed around – had been displaced.

“Will you finally go to work and stop chasing imaginary creatures, please?” she blurted out. That was just the moment the wife appeared triumphantly, waving her phone with a picture of a captured yellow creature on screen.

Martha sighed.

That was when Mitch’s father showed up at the doorstep and said “where can I plug in my phone, there is one little bugger that’s about to get away?”

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Carefree