Max's ears lifted one centimeter off his head. There was an odd noise echoing throughout his Master's abode that didn't belong. He lifted his head off his front paws to glance around his and the Grinch's home to see if it was any machinery that the Grinch perhaps forgotten to turn off when he decided to hit the sack.
But nothing was on, no machinery hiss; clanking or even a peep—only that odd noise. Hearing as the noise was probably not coming from his inside his owner's lair, he got up from his sleeping position, and cantered over to the green wooden door that leads to the outside world, to which a storm bloomed.
Giving a quick fleeting glance over to the Grinch who snored as he slept on his bed with a pint of drool rolling down out of his mouth, he turned back to the door and pressed his ears onto it to listen for the sound that had awoken him from his slumber. After a break in the gusts of wind outside, he heard it. Now he could extinguish it as a cry. The cry almost sounded like—
His golden-brown eyes enlarged a little, it was a baby's cry. If the Grinch could name any word in the Who-Dictionary about how he was feeling, it would be the word exhausted. The reason for his awakening—the sounds of something whimpering and sounds of something sharp make contact with…wood? It was probably a wild animal pleading for him to let them into his home for warmth and to get out of the storm, he figured.
Turning onto his side with his eyes still closed shut; he waited to hear if the noise would let up. But when the noise became more frantic and a familiar barking started, he bolted upright in bed, peering around his home for the cause of the sound. Looking over to his front door, he looked to Max who at this time was scratching at the bronze door knob.
"Max! What is the meaning of this?" He snarled, his voice betraying his tiredness. "I swear, you dumb dog, if you don't stop, I will personally throw you outside! Is that what you want because I will gladly do it?!". Max didn't stop nor listen to his master. Instead, the scratching with his claws became even more berserk than before—and more annoying. He looked to the door to see all the claw marks being inflicted upon it. Great, he mentally thought, now I have to repaint that.
Swinging his feet off the bed, he lifted himself up till he was standing, his indignation pumping off of himself in waves towards his dog; oh… wait till he gets his hands on him. He wobbled and tripped over his feet as he walked to the entrance of his home, finally walking straight once he got his footing, no longer looking like a non-sober man coming out of a bar intoxicated. His little tail-wager of a dog now whimpered instead of scratching the hell out of his door when he approached.
"What's the matter, Max?". He grumbled, "I don't know about you, but I actually need sleep!"
That is when he heard the same noise that Max had heard—a distant crying. "What in the blazing gum balls?," he whispered confusingly. That crying was definitely not an animal. Sticking a hairy green pinky finger into his ear, he twisted the digit around for a second before pulling out, and pressing his ear to the door much like the same way Max had.
Max looked up just in time to see his Master's eyes widen, but unlike himself, the Grinch swung the door open…if only he himself had a thumb… When the Grinch had opened the door, what he was met with was a blast of cold air and snow, and shivers came upon his own body.
How could anyone live out here, especially a wild animal? The Grinch thought. Looking around, listening for the wails of what he thought was a baby; he turned in the direction of the cry once it was heard by his and his dog's ears again. Stepping one hairy bare-footed foot out, he pressed his foot into the snow.
"Holy jeebers!", he shouted in surprise. A zing, and an unpleasant one at that, ran up his spine with him shivering all the way. The nerves in his feet seemed to freeze immediately on contact with the snow. Max yipped walking out into the snow like it was nothing. "Ha, ha, funny, Max, real funny," He sarcastically sneered, "Show off!".
After his outburst towards his dog, the Grinch peered around the haze of snow that only granted him a view of only a few centimeters in front of his nose. He guessed blindly of where the noise was possibly pin-pointed. He chose to head in the North-West direction.
"C'mon, Max," he bellowed over the yells of the wind. ,"I need your help! Use what the Who-God gave you—a sensitive nose!".
Max gave a ruff, though to his ears, it was silent as the wind was over-powering, and there's no other noises than the blows of the harsh air. Seeing as the brown fuzz ball started trekking off, The Grinch followed slowly behind. He didn't dare lift his feet off the ground in fear of tripping over an un-leveled rock, so he dragged his feet against the ground for a safer, pain-free walk.
And he found that the cries were becoming louder, and louder. And even louder. "We're getting closer…". He muttered softly.
"Come on Max, pick up the pace! Sooner we investigate, the sooner I'm warmer, and the sooner I'm able to sleep!" He hollered to Max. He could've sworn he saw a little eye-roll from his dog. Pacing at a leisurely pace, the cry he and his dog heard stopped—this time to long for good.
He growled at Max, and at himself. To him, his dog was walking like a snail! Why did he care about what happened to the thing that was crying? Maybe his tiredness and the cold were numbing his common sense, and making his mind to be coated in a thick fog.
A bark broke him from his thoughts. He looked down to Max who was looking down a little downward like himself, as if looking at something. His eyes widened in silent recognition. Closing the distance between him and his pet, he peered over his dog to see a…an umbrella? What the hey? He thought in shock and surprise.