(Walter’s note: Mariana’s chapter numbers do not follow any known system, are written sometimes on a different color, on top of another chapter, and, overall, make no sense as a narrative. She tries her best. It is not enough.)
The desert sun licked my fur because it liked licking my fur and I wasn’t rolling and it was daytime in the desert. I panted as I ran over the golden sands, golden! They were made for me like squirrels are. Sand is fun, it scratches you back if you scratch her. I love sand. It can even be put inside glass things that you can knock over the table to release the sands from the belly of her mother. Because glass is sand, and thus, hourglasses are pregnant sand. Sandstone, on the other hand, is a mass grave. Yup.
It was a lot of sand between me and the cacti, and, rainbow bridges, it was a lot of sand. I heard cats like to do their ugly things on sand. I like cats, sometimes. Others I hate cats. But they are supposed to like to take craps on sandboxes. That’s what Walter calls a “fact of life”. Sandboxes are not made of sand, but are boxes nonetheless. Weird.
After running a while, I felt a weight taken off of my hips and shoulders. Didn’t look behind, for I had a mission: Walter wanted me to fetch a cactus and I was going to fetch a dogdamned cactus alright!
I pulled the brakes when I spotted a little cute scaled dog or cat standing in my way. It walked funny and tried to get away. It was black and brown and covered in thorns, like some of the rosebushes I used to wrestle with on earth. Sometimes, I won against the bushes!
The little guy stood still as I slowly approached. How to make friends with it or how to hunt it was something that escaped my knowledge, so I tried the safest approach. The guy ran away in short spurts and I followed. It changed direction often, and was very good at playing. I panted happily as I tried to catch him.
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Eventually, tired from the chase, it faced me and puffed up, growing. Yay, a bigger friend!
I sniffed closely. What a curious cat/dog. Maybe hamster? No, I could not exactly pinpoint what it was. I had fetched Walter something similar before, some sort of scaly puppies that smelled similarly weird.
It retreated slowly, and I approached with the caution of a fire hydrant. I like fire hydrants. They are social hubs.
The little rascal closed his eyes and a jet of grey liquid sprang from them! It wetted my nose and other parts of my snout, and when I tried to lick my face clean, I tasted the horror! It was worse than the foul potions the veterinarians concoct to oppress us. I have eaten dry turds that tasted better. Way better, in fact.
I pawed my snout trying to get the vile fluid off, but it was sticky. Nuzzled the sands, and they got stuck to my face. The sand wanted to help, clearly, but it was not good enough. I am sorry, sand, I like you.
The little friend went away and I was not in the mood to follow, trying by all means to get rid of his gift. It made me think that maybe the small guy wasn’t a dog. Maybe it was a chinchilla. I have never seen a chinchilla. Perhaps chinchillas get offended when people deny their gifts. I am sorry, chinchilla.
Tired of the despicable flavor in my tongue, I summoned Neverbowl (Walter’s note: The… the Newfoundland. By God why don’t I just let this pile of drivel burn. Maybe because it has been already BURNED ON MY MIND. Besides, it would anger my editor.) and sunk my head into his waterfluff. Blurbblurrbrlbrlurblurblurblur, I said while I shook hard. As hard as a coconut, in fact.
Not even rinsing could remove the foul taste from my tongue. I like my tongue. It’s fun and nice to have a tongue.
Tongues are useful for a ton of things. My whole life changed when I got a tongue. It was before I was born, when I was still stowed inside mommy for reasons that escape my comprehension. You can lick your fur with a tongue, taste things, taste other dogs, clean their fur, too, taste humans, groom humans, keep your nose wet, pant… tongues are so useful!
What was I saying? I need to keep wraithing.
Oh, yes.
After drinking enough from Neverbowl to wash down the blood taste, I looked around for the friend, but it was nowhere to be found. Poor thing, I scared it! Then I spotted a cactus in the distance, and for some reason my quest marker was pointing at it. I tried to remember.
Oh, yes. I had to fetch it. So I grabbed it and ran back to Walter.