Saturday, May 07, 2005

BUDDY’S SWELLED HEAD


Percy watches Buddy eat crumbs

BUDDY’S SWELLED HEAD
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

“Buddy, what are you doing?” Percy asks, amazed to find Buddy in the living room, chest-deep in his empty bag of dry puppy food.

“Mmmmmmshg.” Percy mumbles from inside the bag.

Percy shakes his head. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Come out of there so I can talk to you.”

Slowly and reluctantly Buddy backs up. And backs up. And backs up. The bag moves forward as he moves in reverse. He’s stuck in the empty twenty-pound bag. “Mmmmmp!” His cry for help is muffled and garbled.

Percy walks over, hooks the claws from his left paw in the bag, and pulls. Buddy backs up and drags Percy with him. “Help!” Percy cries.

Merci runs into the room. “What’s the problem?”

“Buddy’s stuck. Help me pull the bag off his head.”

Percy gets a firm grip with the claws from both front paws and Merci grabs a corner of the bottom of the bag with her teeth. “Okay, Buddy, back up,” Percy tells him.

Buddy backs up, dragging Percy and Merci with him.

“It’s no use,” Percy says. “You’re stuck.”

“Mmmpphg. Mmmmpphg.” Buddy is starting to panic.

Suddenly Buddy races forward, still wearing the bag, knocking Percy and Merci to the floor. “Mmmmsh,” he yells as he runs into a door, seating the bag more firmly on his head.

Cameron is standing and looking pleased with himself.

“What happened?”

“I poked him in the fanny with my claws,” Cameron explains.

Percy is incredulous. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I couldn’t resist the opportunity. He was such a big target. Besides, he nearly stepped on me. I could have been crushed to death.”

“Mmmmshp.” Buddy is walking backwards again, still stuck in the bag.

“I have an idea,” Percy says. “Stop moving around, Buddy.” He points to the end of the bag and directs Merci to stand there. He and Cameron join her, standing one on either side. “Now when I count to three, we all leap onto the bag and our combined weight should allow Buddy to escape out the other end.”

“One, two,” Percy begins to count as the three prepare to leap forward, ‘three!”

“Mmm-mmmmspshsh!” Buddy screams when the dog and two kittens land on his head. Backpedaling furiously, he drags the bag and the three animals with him.

“What is going on in here!” Jan thunders as she opens the front door to find three of her pets riding around the room on top of what should be an empty puppy food bag, but with Buddy’s backside sticking out of the open end “Stop, Buddy. Stand still. The rest of you, move along.”

Percy, Merci and Cameron move away. Jan grabs the end of the bag and says, “Okay, Buddy, now back up.”

Buddy backs up once more. This time the bag comes off his head and he is finally free. Jan shakes her head at the four of them and carries the empty bag into the kitchen with her.

Percy is the first to find his voice. “What were you doing inside that bag, Buddy?”

“Eating the crumbs. I was fine until you interrupted me. What did you want, anyway?”

“Oh, right, I wanted to ask what kind of tales you have been telling folks about us.”

“What do you mean? You know what I tell everyone. We all read the Funny Farm journal.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been making up stories and spreading them around behind our backs?”

Buddy shakes his head in bewilderment. “No, you read my stories. Is there a problem?”

“Well, not exactly. But you get all the fan mail. I don’t understand why.”

Buddy perks up. “I have more fan mail? Where?”

Percy jumps onto the desk and passes a card to Buddy. “Here. This card came today by snail mail. It’s for you.”

Buddy takes the card with eager paws and reads it.

“What’s it say?” Cameron wants to know. “Read it out loud.”

Buddy, it seems you get picked on. They have to remember you’re just a baby and they are all elderly. They’re jealous of all your energy.

“Elderly! Who’s elderly?” Cameron demands. “I’m the youngest cat and I’m not even a year old yet. Neither is Percy.”

Buddy is perplexed. “The writer must be talking about Jan and Jenny, the elderly cat. Jenny’s eighteen and Jan is, well, ancient. This is neat! Someone understands, really understands. I’m the baby and you guys shouldn’t pick on me all the time like you do.”

“Oh, please,” Percy complains. “No wonder your head got stuck in a twenty-pound bag. You not only have a large head, you have a swelled head. And it didn’t come from crashing into a door.”

Cameron makes a decision. “The next time Buddy gets his head stuck in a bag, I’m not going to claw him in the fanny.”

“Thank you, Cameron,” Buddy says, beaming at him.

“No, I think the next time this happens we cats should all join in and leap on his backside together.”

“Yes.” Merci nods in approval. “And I’ll hold the door steady.”

Percy,
Secretary to the Funny Farm Writing Club

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