literature
Animals make great literature even greater: from Toto to Wilbur to the three little kittens who lost their mittens.
Where Did Everyone Go? - A Short Story
Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I live near the ocean. I’m half-brown and half-black in color. Both my ears are black; my tail is all brown. We are a group of four who own this area. We don’t allow other dogs to enter our territory. We usually get scraps of meat from the nearby butcher shop. We have to fight with the rowdy cats who roam around in the same area for a meager piece of meat. There’s also a food cart nearby; we lick the leftover food from the discarded plates. Also, there’s an overflowing dustbin near the statue where the cows usually go. We get plenty there. So overall, life was good.
By vaisrinivasan5 years ago in Petlife
The Barn Owl and The Bulldog
There once was a Bulldog puppy and a barn owl who lived together on a farm with other types of animals and a wooded area. The little puppy stayed with his mother and his siblings but the one animal who looked out for all the puppies while their mother was asleep and the puppies would tend to roam around.
By Kadiya Schroder5 years ago in Petlife
12:03 AM
Start 12:03 AM. This is a predator. Something is watching, and stalking just outside view. Long, fingered leaves blot the otherwise unobstructed Moon, and high grass provides exquisite concealment. For this prey is observant, and only perfect camouflage will allow success in the hunt. A slight wisp in breathing or twitch of an ear could alert the whole land, and expose cover. But this hunter is perfect. Thousands upon thousands of generations have lived all nine lives, just for the instance of now. Coiled legs and thorn-sharp eyes, a cat in the night is unrivaled as the pinnacle of creation. The apex of the garden, this cat is untempted by the millions of senses tripping every wire of perception. In the far corner behind, next to the largest fencepost, a frog bathes in groundwater. At the base of the house rainpipe, two mice reach to sip the collected moisture, then scurry back around the corner and underground. Upstairs, the family dogs toss legs in dreamful speed. The local barn owl, second only to feline majesty at nocturnal excellence, turns head one way, and then another. A single wingbeat is all even the cat hears, as the mutually respected entity seeks fulfilment in the night. But none of these matter, for the prize is dead ahead. The cat has observed such a figure for days now, always careful to gather times of rising, yet never to tip-off the ultimate end: a clash, in which the child of tigers would surely triumph! Invisible, the air breathes over such a vast garden. A leaf slips hold from some branch far above, twirling, dancing, toward the grassy audience ever nearing. Expecting and confident, one paw times with the pale-green setdown, and the cat is closer to apex. It is only a matter of waiting, and with prowess of every lord from deserts to jungles, this feline warrior has time. A crack! The moment is arrived! A tail lashes without sound. One pounce, and claws will meet their prey. Yet even a creature so magnificent must be careful, for though a battle is to be won, a precision strike would best serve to end the struggle quickly, or else the target can still fight. There! Arising from a den of noir, the Backyard Beast rears a head as if to subjugate the garden. Defense of home and honor flaring, the pride of evolution holds no longer: the cat charges! Fiendish hissing strikes back like lightning, but Garden Guardian is unphased. Launching a tackle on the monster, it holds fast, spitting cold fury to retaliate! In a heartbeat rebound, the feline warrior hits low. Fangs glance off dark armor, but leveraged hindclaws rip at the crackling intruder! Frigid moisture spurts from the head- the only side not shielded by thick, slippery hide. The victim spins, reaching narrow body higher still. At once, the long, rounded enemy blasts the cat with icy mist! The last chance is here. A jaguar, diving into the river, a single bound must kill the prey! Legs dug in place, shoulders hoisting, sharp jaws rip one final time! Snap! Rock-hard skin broken, the fighting monster skids and falls limp. Freezing water gushing from the den where it had lie, the warrior cat growls in triumphant notice for all to hear, and witness. Nature has borne the cardinal virtue of excellence, and lives to stalk the garden once more.
By Ryan Barrett5 years ago in Petlife
The best of unlikely friends
This is a story about a kitten and a tiny mouse The pair would run and play all through the house! The humans would ask why did their kitten did not eat the mouse, isn't that what cats are for around a house? But the kitten did not care, the mouse was her friend. No one could compare! The two were best of friends, they did everything together. They played games like tag and hide go seek. They snuggled while they napped and sat together to eat.
By Alison Blanco5 years ago in Petlife
Don't be Fooled by his Cuteness
Bethany, Bethany, Bethany. My beloved owner. She thinks I'm the most innocent dog in the world as my dreamy chihuahua eyes and high pitch crying makes her believe that I'm a very well-behaved dog. That's the one thing I'm very grateful for being a chihuahua. Everyone thinks I'm super cute. I love it! If I'm super cute it means that no one will think I'm guilty when I transform the house into a reckless dog pound where the music is turned up on full volume, and the five strays in my neighborhood come around for some dog weed.
By Bethany Gordon5 years ago in Petlife
The View from the Hutch
Oh what a world we live in, where a mind like mine is trapped behind a cage of flimsy metal. Confined to a small space of hay and wood, where I’m subjected to daily pestering from my captors. No matter how much I stomp my feet they show no signs of fear, continuously picking me up and hugging me like a simple-minded fool. They laugh at my attempts to ward them off, undermining my war cries as something adorable.
By Joe Harris5 years ago in Petlife
Hank the Hound Detective
On the top floor of an apartment building lived an old, wrinkly, brown, Basset Hound named Hank. He was the pet of the famous detective Billy Bass. To the humans, the name “Billy Bass” meant something, but in the pet world, it meant nothing. If you asked the parrot in the apartment next door, or the fish in the apartment below, they wouldn’t know who you were talking about. But if you mentioned the name Hank to them, well now, that’s a different story. The parrot would repeat the name and the fish would splash in his tank. “Hank” brought either admiration or fear, depending on to whom you were talking. Hank wasn’t just any dog, he was the famous pet detective.
By Natalie Spack5 years ago in Petlife
The Intruders
The alarm clock is shrill, persistent, and uncompromising - waging war against the vivid dream that’s fighting to keep its hold on my consciousness. The dream slowly accepts its defeat, but steals away with both my mental clarity and my will to get out of bed. Until I see the time.
By Stephanie Nielsen5 years ago in Petlife
Henry Rollins and the Blueberry Puffs
She ran the tips of her fingers over my nose. They applied gentle pressure from there, to the top of my head, then back and down between my shoulders. Her hands were so large, about the size of my entire body, but she was so delicate when she pet me.
By Martha Black5 years ago in Petlife
The Mountain
The Mountain and excerpt from "A Dog Named Fire" The newspaper headline glared up at him from the table. He didn’t need to read it; he already knew what it said. He didn’t need anyone to tell him. It was the same routine each time, always erred in the beginning. The right people had to be told, information had to be confirmed. You couldn’t go around telling people news without following procedure. Procedure took time, not as long as most The newspaper headline glared up at him from the table. He didn’t need to read it; he already knew what it said. He didn’t need anyone to tell him. It was the same routine each time, always erred in the beginning. The right people had to be told, information had to be confirmed. You couldn’t go around telling people news without following procedure. Procedure took time, not as long as most peo-ple thought, but time nevertheless. Sometimes it was minutes, sometimes a couple of hours, it all depended on circumstances. The rest was a polite courtesy, a small window of time before it became too real.
By G MacDonald5 years ago in Petlife
