Talking Pet - 8/17

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Lakesideman » Fri Sep 24, 2010 8:27 am


I was stuck in that limbo-like place between dreams and being awake. I could vaguely remember the awesome dream that I was having and wanted to continue but a gruff voice kept calling for me to wake up, kept pulling me into the conscience world.
My eyes opened and when they finally focused I was looking directly at my dog Vader. “Go lay down, Vader.” I mumbled to the Black Lab. “It’s not time to get up yet.”
“You think that lame stuff is gonna work on me Paulie?”
“Who said that?” I called out while sitting up quickly up in bed, my eyes now wide open.
“Who do you think it is, the Easter Bunny?” My dog said to me in perfect English.
“Vader,” I cried in disbelief. “You can talk.”
“You are a sharp one,” Vader replied with sarcasm. “It’s no wonder your species is on the top of the food chain!”
I was about to ask my dog how long he has been able to speak, when he cut me off in mid-sentence.
“Listen up Paulie,” Vader barked. “You’re taking me to the beach today.”
“Oh buddy,” I replied with a smile. “I can’t do that, I have an important meeting today.” Expecting my loyal companion to accept my explanation, I stared to flop back down into my pillow when Vader told me that this was not acceptable and that it was now necessary to do things the hard way. He hopped off the foot of my bed, rooted around on the floor for a minute before hopping back up on the bed with my car keys in his mouth. “Give me my car keys, Vader.” I said to him in an attempt to reassert my dominance.
“You must think that I am the runt of the litter,” the Lab grunted. “You either do this my way or these keys go down the hatch. I hear it’s like $200 to get a new set of these modern style keys.”
He was correct. These new fangled keys with the computer chips embedded in them cost a small fortune to replace. I had to get them out of Vader’s mouth at all costs. This dog had eaten three television remotes, four shoes and an untold number of tennis balls in the past. Keys would not be a problem for him. “How about if I work a half day and then we go down to the park?”
The dog shook his head emphatically. “We are past the park now Paulie,” he replied. “There have been too many un-kept promises. I am nearly thirty-five in people years, I need room to roam and stay in shape. It is either a day at the beach or I have a Honda appetizer.”
The dog had me over a barrel. His drool was getting all over the car remote on the key chain. “Okay,” I finally relented. “We will go to the beach.”
“I want vanilla ice cream too,” Vader said, pressing his advantage to its fullest. “I am not talking about the stuff from that fast food place either; I want it from that little stand near the beach where they put the doggie biscuit in the sundae for you.”
“I let out a sigh of exasperation. “Is there anything else?”
“Nope that ought to do it,” Vader said in a satisfied tone. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. The keys will be waiting for you in the kitchen; don’t dawdle when you’re getting ready because I will be waiting.”
“Yes master,” I said quietly once Vader was up the hall and out of earshot. I then turned and headed into the bathroom to dutifully get ready for a day at the beach.

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby mammamia1803 » Fri Sep 24, 2010 4:55 pm

"Um, Logan? I need your help with something."

I groaned.

"Can't this wait 'till morning?"

"It IS morning, psycho. But, really...I need your help. Now."


"I accidentally clogged the toilet. You know, uh, with the cat."


"No, not USING the cat, the cat and I stuffed toilet paper in the--"

"Jasper, it must be, like, six in the morning. This is NOT what I bargained for with those experiments--"

"'Those experiments' happen to be some of the biggest milestones in science--and really, in everything--since the discovery of the wheel. Nay, the discovery of understanding what pets have to say has to top the list. Honestly, Logan! Think about it! What if these discoveries never existed, and us animals secretly found a cure to cancer? BUt you wouldn't be able to get it from us, because you wouldn't be able to communicate with us!"

"That would never happen."

"You wish, Logan. But seriously, the bathroom's probably turned into a swimming pool now."

I began to stand up and motioned towards the bedroom door.



"I might like a swimming pool. I need to practice my doggy paddle."

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby annasgirl » Mon Oct 04, 2010 6:41 am

One day you wake up to find your dog/cat waiting for you at the side of your bed, sitting on your briefcase. Cocking its head, it tells you, in perfect English, that you won’t be going to work today. Why won’t your pet let you go to work, and what happens?

i wake up with my dog siting on my suitcase whining wanting nothing more than for me to not go to work because he is going to be left alone for way to many hrs with no one to play with him. he is also jealous of other dogs i may come across within my working schedule that is so full of no time to go home and see whats up with my true loving dog who is so soon close of dying if i have ever left and not come home. Sometimes i like to try and bring him to ork with me so he can play with other dogs he has come friends with.

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby cincode589 » Fri Oct 15, 2010 10:10 am

I woke up early again that morning, ahead of the alarm clock that ticked almost as loudly at night as it rang in the morning. This was becoming a routine with me these past couple of weeks. I would awaken early, cold and damp, having perspired throughout the night. Broken sleep, broken dreams, half awake, half asleep. Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling fan that spun on full hardly feeling the benefits of its effort: a cool breeze. The nights had been hot and that clock, I was sure, along with the humidity were working in tandem to rob my sleep. “Today”, I said to myself, “I’m getting a digital clock – right after work”.
“But you’re not going to work!” A little voice said, spoken clearly as that of a child, yet spoken with an eerie matter of fact’ness that startled me into an upright position.
“Who’s there?” I said. My heart was pounding and I immediately sensed a presents in the room, but saw no one.
“Down here,” the little voice said again, “at the foot of the bed… person.” I was afraid, very afraid, and thoughts of ‘Chucky’, the murderous doll instantly drowned my thoughts of reality. The foot of the bed wasn’t visible until I leaned over to my right – I always slept on the far left – and that’s when I knew I must still be asleep; dreaming. There was no ‘Chucky’, there was just… Poco , my 12 pound dead cat.
Poco was a big cat, as cats go, and his mange of thick yellow fur made him look twice his size. “Poco,” I questioned. “How can you be…?”
“Alive,” Poco said? His lips, or what passed for cat lips, didn’t move with speech. It was as if he were, thinking… out loud, in clearly spoken English.
“But you died,” I said. “I buried you in the backyard. This is a dream,” then the thought, pet cemetery. I had finished reading Stephen King’s, ‘Pet Semetary’, last month and this dream was probably because of the book. Somewhat relieved at that, I figured I’d wake up, cold and damp, and…
“This isn’t a dream, person. I am Poco. I need to show you something.”
“Show me what Poco?” Poco didn’t reply, instead, he stepped toward the side of the bed, leaped up, and onto my lap. He was purring. I felt his weight, his fur was soft and he was warm to the touch. He was alive. And then my emotions welled up like a tidal wave and I began to cry. I picked up that big purring mass of fur and hugged him tightly. Poco was more than a cat, he was one of my dearest friends, that is, before my Ex accidently ran him over backing out of the garage.
She hadn’t seen him gnawing on a chicken bone that morning – the same bone I saw in the driveway while walking to my car and didn’t bother to pick up – so when she back out quickly, Poco didn’t move fast enough and she crushed his spine under the rear tire. Poco had the shock reflex to run but didn’t make it far before dying. My Ex called me at work that morning, and I immediately left for home.
Poco was lying inside the garage on some old towels. My Ex had gone to work; we were alone, and I was crying. I built a wooded box out of scrap plywood; buried Poco in the backyard and marked his grave. Over time the yard overgrew the site, my wife and I divorced, and I moved into a new home. That was ten years ago. I never forgot about Poco, and reading ‘Pet Semetary’ – albeit morbid – brought back warm thoughts of my dear cat.
Suddenly, Poco wriggled loose and jumped off the bed. He licked his fur then took off out the bedroom door. I heard him say, “Come with me.” I followed and he stopped at the front door, wanting out.
“Sure Poco, but what do you want to show me?” Poco just pawed at the front door, so I opened it. He trotted quickly to the driveway and stopped at the morning paper, then sat there. I asked him again, “What do you want to show me Poco?” But I never heard him speak again. The paper! There something he wants me to read in the paper.
I picked up the morning edition, opened it, and began to read. Nothing caught my attention until I got to the local news section. There on page two, was a story about a house fire – in my old neighborhood, in my old house. ‘Complete loss…’ the article read, and, ‘… no one was injured…’ But it was my old house. “Poco, how did you…” I said and looked down. But Poco was gone. But now I knew what he wanted to show me, and I realized what that meant.
The article continued on about the causes, and then read that the owners planned to rebuild. That meant bulldozers and heavy equipment would disturb Poco’s grave, and what Poco wanted, was for me to come and get him.
I never saw Poco again, expect when I reburied the box with his remains in my backyard. The owners of my old house seemed a bit taken back by my pleas to dig up a dead cat, but they were nice enough to allow me that request. I had also learned that the house actually burned down two weeks prior – around the same time I began losing sleep, and in retrospect, a funny thought occurred to me: I never bought that digital clock. I didn’t make it to work that day. I and never lost another night’s sleep.

In memory of Poco, a real cat.

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby ksuesz » Mon Nov 22, 2010 1:27 pm

The deafening tone of the alarm clock burst into my dream. After spending a considerable amount of time searching for the origin of the noise in my dream, my conscious finally grasped the notion that it was my alarm clock and was pulling me back to reality.

I opened my eyes to the sun peering into my bedroom, reflecting of various pieces of glass and mirrors and completely brightening the entire room. I hazily rubbed my eyes and let out a disappointed groan. I have never been a morning person. As I pulled back the covers I immediately noticed that Toby was missing from his usual spot, curled into a ball tucked behind my knees. He wasn't much for mornings either, so I was concerned.

As my feet hit the coolness of the hard wood floor I stood unsteadily up with a shiver. I began to make my way towards the door, which was straight ahead of me, when I noticed a dark figure out the corner of my eye. I turned my head to better focus on the object when I realized it was Toby. He was perched on top of my Louis Vuitton leather duffel bad staring at me contently with his chestnut eyes. I was confused, but not shocked, as Toby often took on the characteristics of a person. I glared back at him, waiting for him to leap up in excitement for his breakfast. He didn't move an inch. I decided he need more encouragement this morning.

"Come on, Toby. Let's get your breakfast so I can get ready for work."

I started to walk out of the room, but was caught off guard by a vocal response.

"Never mind breakfast woman, there's not enough time!" The voice was very proper, and almost had a tinge of an English accent.

I back-peddled slowly and tried to focus on where the voice came from. I stared at Toby.

"There isn't time for you to be dumbfounded by this tiny detail that I can speak, we must hurry!" Toby was standing on top of the suitcase now. His voice was still calm, but I could hear the urgency.

I felt faint. Not the response I expected when someone finds out their dog can speak, but I was actually getting dizzy. I extended my arm to catch my bedpost for balance and quickly moved my body to rest against it. I closed my eyes and tried to rationalize the events that were unfolding in the bedroom of my high-rise apartment. I decided to go along with whatever delusion I was having and respond as appropriately as I saw fit.

"I'm sorry, but what's the hurry?"

"Your identity has been compromised. Isaac knows you are here, he is waiting at your work. We must leave immediately, we need to get you safe before all hope is lost."

I had so many questions. Who is Isaac? Why are we running from him? Have you always been able to talk? Why am I not safe? But the first thing that emerged from my lips was "Where are we going?"

"To see The Council in London, they are expecting us. It's time for you to find out who you really are. It's time for you to realize what you are if there is any hope in saving the existence of not only the human race, but of the world." His lips moved with such perfect motions, like speaking was a second nature. His eyes flickered and I saw his sincerity.

Shock, confusion, bewilderment, agitation, and fear all waved of me at once. I had no idea what was going on, what I was experiencing, or what would happen. But I did know one thing; I believed what was happening was real and that my desire to help, to understand my destiny was overcoming all emotions. After a moment of pulling my thoughts together, I stared back at Toby's black, Pug face and expelled a long breath of air.

"Okay. Let's go."

I could tell it was going to be an interesting journey, whether I was ready or not. Toby hopped off the suitcase with a yelp of excitement and grabbed the handle with his teeth. He led the way through the apartment as I slipped into my jacket and shoes. I opened the front door and walked out, following Toby. I quickly glanced over my shoulder as I shut the door, realizing I would never see my home again.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Alina » Sat Dec 04, 2010 1:57 pm

I admit this is silly...

"Hey Duke, you're talking! And you have a German accent? Well I guess it goes with that whole German Shepherd thing you got going on."

"My good woman, Alina. I don't have to call you master, do I? Yes, I'm talking. We all talk, but only when we know it's safe. Please don't prove me wrong."

"Are you kidding me? You all talk? Okay, a lot to process here. First of all, I'm not telling a soul. I'll be labeled crazy as I get the feeling you won't talk for them, right?"

"That would be correct."

"Okay, let me think. Now why can't I go to work today? Not that I'd be able to concentrate much after this anyway."

Duke paced a bit back and forth, obviously concerned about what he was about to say. "My good woman-"

"Stop calling me that! Is that what you've been calling me in your head?"

"Fine. Anyway, I want to be an actor. Please take me to Hollywood today. They're holding auditions for a new superhero's dog. I think I'd be perfect! Please? Only thing is I'd have to live out there."

"Duke, I can't leave my job."

"I know. I've made arrangements for someone else to keep me. My friend Spike's cousin's keeper. So I'd be leaving you for good, but I'll always have great memories of you. And hey, maybe you'll see me on the big screen someday soon."

I couldn't believe it. Did I love my dog enough to let him go pursue his dreams of stardom? I'd surely miss him, but he has to try. "Okay Duke, I'll take you to the auditions today. Just don't forget me."

"Never. How could I forget the one who taught me how to sit, roll over, and...speak - that's a laugh."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, no. Just joking makes things easier. I want you to know that you've been great with me. I've been very comfortable here and I've loved my doggy treats. But I'm thinking bigger. I'm sure if you get yourself another dog, it'll make it easier on you. And you'll have someone to talk with now when no one else is around. Remember that, no one else could be around. The dog won't talk; you'll just look foolish. Alright, we better get a move on."

"Yes Duke. Could you do one last thing for me before we go?"

"Of course, I love you. What is it?"

"Could you stop talking and bark instead?"

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby DreamtADream » Sat Dec 11, 2010 4:26 pm

“You won’t be going to work today,” my cat, Luna, sat there staring at me unflinchingly.
I had nearly grabbed my briefcase at that point, but jumped back as if it burnt the ends of my fingers. My arms waved around as if they were finding something to grab, but quickly collected myself, deeply inhaling, and then exhaling. I stared back at my cat.
“Well, is there anything else you want to say?” Luna didn’t respond, she only licked her paw leisurely, “Then I’ll be on my way.” I stepped forward hesitantly to grab my briefcase again.
“No,” she swatted my hand away as she swatted at her favorite toy when I took it out.
I raised my eyebrow at her, “Why?”
We stared at each other for several long seconds until my burned and watered, forcing me to close them.
“Can you at least explain why you can talk?”
“I want tuna fish salad first,” she demanded.
I couldn’t help but laugh, “Very demanding, why not just tuna fish?”
She yawned and I couldn’t help but think how adorable she was, but then I realized she wasn’t going to respond.
“Fine! I get it! Tuna fish salad coming up!” I exclaimed walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.
“We don’t have any tuna fish salad at home,” she jumped down from the table and joined me in the kitchen, rubbing the arch of her back against my leg.
I absentmindedly scratch behind her ears as she always loved it, “How did you know that?”
“I didn’t smell any,” Luna shifted her head so I was scratching beneath her chin, “and please take care not to scratch too hard.”
“Yes your majesty,” I muttered.
She purred in response.
“Look, I’ll go to work and on my way home I’ll pick up some tuna fish and some cat nip.”
Instantly I felt a sharp pain in my hand, “I don’t like cat nip!”
“Hey! I drew back my hand, what was that for.”
She walked away and curled back up on the table, licking herself as if to say, ‘not my fault’.
“Fine, I’ll just go out and get some tuna fish!” I went to grab my keys.
“I don’t want it anymore.”
I sighed heaving myself into my seat, “I really need to go to work!”
“… I can’t tell you…”
I hesitated and pulled her into my arms as she resisted, using claws and all, but soon she was purring in my lap with my fingers going through her hair.
“Why do you want me to stay home?”
She swatted at my hand lightly as if to say, ‘just keep petting and don’t ask why.’ Suddenly I didn’t feel a need to go into work, to sit there for long hours and continue to have more filing and pile of work growing. It was much more pleasurable to have Luna’s comforting weight on my lap, her purring filling the house, so I sat there, for hours at end, petting her. I must have dozed off at the long hours and when I came to, Luna was no longer on my lap and before me was my laptop I kept in my briefcase.
‘I wanted attention.’
I half smiled, of course that would be my fat, spoiled, lazy cat’s reasoning for keeping me home.
I found Luna lying on my bed and sat next to her, “I could have just given you attention.” She rubbed my hand and settled herself on my lap, with my hand running through her silky hair. “No response?” Luna made no reaction, she simply continued purring.
The next morning I went about my daily routine and finally was ready to go off to work. Again Luna was sitting on the table next to my briefcase. I grabbed the briefcase, no response.
Smiling I leaned over to scratch the top of her head, “I’ll bring home some tuna fish salad for dinner.”
Finally I tore myself from her and went to the doorway and looked back, she was gone, probably off to one of her favorite spots.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby astridlim » Mon Jan 10, 2011 10:38 pm

I woke up a bit late, with the cloudy sky outside my window. A perfect day to stay at home and curl up behind my blanket.
I tried to open my eyes, and the first thing I saw was my golden retriever, Pippo.
"Wake up!" he barked. Or so I thought. I guessed I was too sleepy and heard him "talked" instead of "barked".
I stared at him, and he looked at me back. Suddenly he winked, and said, "Let's not go to work today."
"What?" I startled and suddenly jumped from my bed.
"Let's not go to work. Spend some time with me," he smiled.
I pinched myself. Did my dog just talked to me?'s weird. And his voice was quite deep. Unlike his barking which was very high and a bit pitchy.
I tried to ignore him. Maybe it was just me, imagining strange things because I was too lazy to go to work.
But he kept following me, and instead of his usual bark, he spoke to me with his deep voice. "Let's play in the park! It has been a while since the last time we did that!"
I finally stopped and looked at him. Yes, he was right. It's been a while since the last time I took him to the park. Actually, it's been a while since I really paid attention to him, other than feeding him and bathing him. I felt a bit guilty. Is this really my conscience speaking?
"I can't..I have to go to work..Sorry Pippo," I unintentionally answered him.
He sighed. "You can always go to work tomorrow. But, I don't think we will have time anymore to play together. I'm getting old, you know."
What? How come he suddenly became so melancholy? I tried to count his age. Well, okay. He was old, alright. I felt sad suddenly. Time was flying so fast! It's like yesterday when I went to the dog farm and brought Pippo home. He was there when I graduated, moved out from home, fell in love, got my heart broken. He's the best friend I've ever had!
I made up my mind, called the office and told them I was sick.
And I spent the whole day with Pippo, who was still talking to me many times. It turned out that he had a great sense of humor. I never knew this.
It was one of the best days of my life.
And when I found out the next day that Pippo was dying, I was really grateful he has talked to me. I had the greatest memory of my last days with him.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Mz. SoulKitten » Sat Mar 26, 2011 7:56 am

Since the rude alarm clock had absolutely not a care in the world that I was still asleep @ 5:45am, I just forcefully lifted my head from the pillow. In a sitting position, I pressed the snooze button and gave my torso a good morning stretch.
"Ahhhh", I sighed.
"That was well needed". Strangely, I noticed my cat sitting on the black suade leather briefcase that I just purchased to store all of my work documents. As I closed my eyes and plunged the back of my body back down on the pillowtop mattress, I stated:
"Mowry, if I don't like you lounging around on my couch, then what the hell makes you think that it's okay to be on my briefcase? Beat It!" I opened my eyes to see had the animal moved but still he was there in the same spot...ON MY BRIEFCASE
"Mowry, what did I just say!" Suddenly, I heard a unfamiliar voice that came from the direction of the cat:
"I know exactly what you just said," said the voice. Startled, I quickly lift my head back up from the pillow to look around the semi-dark room to see if anyone was there but there was the sight of no one. The voice then stated:
"Dreading that 9-5, I suppose?"
"Who the hell is that!" I shouted.
"It's me, Mowry."

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby alo2071 » Sat Mar 26, 2011 2:19 pm

Oh yes! I love reading other people's stuff. Helps me appreciate other writing styles and get out of my head. :)


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