Why did I write this? I mean, how many people out there watched/read Wishbone and also like The Cat Returns? I guess I will find out, won't I? For the rare pairs of eyes (not to be discriminatory to those with one eye) would be so kind, if you see any spelling or grammatical errors, I would love to be corrected.
Between the Zebra Stripes
Black and white, black and white.
In stories, one way to create interest is with conflict. It has always been preferable when it was quite obvious who was good and who was bad. But those who have a realistic mind tend not to like such stories, as it can be quite hard to tell the difference in real life. This can also contradict others who are tired of reality's difficulties would like to enjoy the occasional simple story.
This story doesn't wish to be a burden, and tells you quite simply it's all left up to you.
Here a young white Jack Russell Terrier and a smaller yellow anthropomorphic cat sat on opposite ends of a table, staring at the newspapers in front of them. "I'm sorry to call you over like this." The cat tapped his gloved fingers on the table. "I know it's harder for you to get out of the house during the colder seasons."
"Not at all, not at all!" The small dog seemed to give a smile along with a reassuring wag. "Thanks to you, a great many books have been saved from my paws. So, what is the matter at hand?"
"My newest assignment calls to find a missing stuffed animal. But unlike most of my previous cases, this one is timed."
"Whatever for?"
"The owner of the animal has to leave with her parents when they return back to wherever they came from."
"So sad." He meant those words, but his cheery spirit never sounded it. "What is so special about this toy?" He wiggled in eagerness. "Does it squeak?"
"Heavens, no." The cat shook his head. "He's an old Zebra. He belonged to the girl's mother and was passed down to her on her tenth birthday."
"Oh, so it's very sentimental."
"Yes." The dog nodded before lightly tapping his paw on the crossword of the day.
"By the way, it's Shakespeare for seven down."
"Thank you, but that's not what I need help with right now." He turned a page in the newspaper and pointed to the colored picture on the front. "There was a festival. The girl and her friends took pictures of their toys watching the parade. She said that when she glanced over to watch some passing clowns he disappeared."
"Not a clue on who took him?"
"Took?" The cat smirked. "This is where things get interesting. One of the girl's friends claimed they saw him walking to a coffee shop."
"Walking?"
"If a bit clumsy." The cat shrugged, making his well pressed suit crinkle just a slight. "She said it followed a strange looking boy with a flute in hand." The terrier's tail began to wag fiercely again.
"This reminds me of a story." He licked his lips.
"I'm sure it does." The cat whiskers twitched as he moved himself from the table and opened to the door. "You can tell me all about it on the way there." The dog barked a laugh, hopping down from his own chair and out of the house.
"Feel free to tell me when to stop, I tend to get carried away!"
Out they will travel, in the bright afternoon. To solve one little problem for one little girl. Neither were very big, but liked to think their actions committed would make no small impact. The cat looked up at the sky and thought, yes, it was a nice day to walk the dog. The dog however, had more important things to think about.
"How fast does the Zebra have to run before it looks grey?"
It is not the object itself that matters, but the emotional baggage to it.
White and black, white and black.