I’m doing it.
I’m leaping.
I’m leaping and I’m grabbing the present and I’m running.
I’m runnnnnniiiinnnnnng.
Fuck, I hate running.
I hate that I’m probably sacrificing myself, too, with whatever this scary present is, but I’d do anything to protect my pets.
They love me just the way I am.
I will protect them at all costs.
“Chili!” my boy pet calls as he races after me. “Chili, drop it!”
Not a fucking chance.
I don’t know what this is, but I know it’s bad news.
Nothing good ever comes from the big red pet with all hisHo ho hos.
“Chili!” my pet girl calls. She’s falling farther behind. “Chili, come back! It’s not a squirrel!”
Squirrels.
My downfall.
They trick me into running every time too.
“Chili,halt,” my boy pet commands.
My feet stop on their own.
Stupid obedience training.
Oh.
Oh.
My paw warmers feel nice.
They’re working really—focus, Chili. Focus.
The good news—I’ve gotten my pets away from the big red pet.
My boy pet has caught up to me. “Drop it.”
My jaw obeys.
Stupid jaw.
I whimper.
My boy pet snags the wrapped box.
It smells familiar, but I can’t place it.
