My Pet!

[RoughWriters]

We decided to talk about a pet we've never had before. Here are our stories.

[sojourn4]

My Pet is a dragon that I found in a little forest just west of the Lonely Mountain before you get to Esgaroth. I named him Tawarthion because he was playing with some wood when I found him. I saw that he was alone and hungry so I gave him some meat to nibble on and he went right for it almost taking a finger. From then on he has followed me everywhere. I taught him how to breath smoke rings and he does it all the time. He can fly vary fast and I trained he to do loop-de-loops in the air.

[tiffany]

His name is Yukon. He’s 85 lbs of creamy white fur and fangs, a full-grown North American wolf.
Far from being the typical house pet, Yukon has his own set of hobbies and quirks. While he enjoys roaming the large plot of family land that our house sits on, he actually finds it much more entertaining to play inside. He has the nasty habit of licking the edges of dishes left out on the counter if I’m not watching him. Sometimes he’ll snitch the food, too, but most of the time he just licks the dishes and leaves the food there. I think he gets a kick out of the noises I make when I spot the slobbery mess.

We’ve all met people who seem to refuse to grow up. Yukon seems to have used them as an example. He’s nothing more than a big baby. If I sit on the couch, he tries to sit in my lap. The fact that he’s bigger than I am doesn’t seem to faze him. If I scold him for something, anything, he goes, curls up in a corner, and whimpers. Thank God he doesn’t need diapers.

Yukon isn’t always a wimp, though. He’s very attached to me and very protective. And he isn’t stupid. You’d think he understood fluent English. You should have seen the look on the FedEx guy’s face after he asked for my number. Needless to say, I don’t think he’ll be calling any time soon.

[Edward Cheever]

Nothing could ever separate me from my pet. Serran IV, my pet killer robot, has been my constant companion, guardian, and source of joy. It is hard to capture the sense of wonder I feel at watching him monitor the dogs and their owners as they walk past the window every morning. His head moves back and forth with precision, his lenses focusing and targeting.

I’ve been teaching him all sorts of tricks, too. He knows how to disintegrate a flying Frisbee at five hundred yards, he knows how to make people beg, and he even knows how to roll over! It’s so adorable when his little red laser flicks on and the little bay doors on his rocket launchers open. Of course we’re still working on making the explosions manageable. He’s so messy sometimes, and very high maintenance.

He will accept only the premium oils and batteries. If I try giving him anything else, he begins to whine as his Gatling gun charges up. Of course I have to put my foot down sometimes and take his ammo away. That makes him listen, at least for a little while.

He doesn’t play nice with other pets I’m afraid. That’s led to some troubles between myself and animal control, and the police, and the FBI and Homeland security on occasion. But we sort things out. After all, they understand my plight. Just the other day I was talking with an army research tech whose own killer robot shoots up his bed every morning while he’s in the shower. I’m glad I don’t have that problem! You’d have to get new sheets every night!

But despite all these hardships, I still love him, and I think he returns the feeling. Every night while I’m reading, he snuggles up next to me with his motors purring, and sometimes when I wake up in the mornings I find any number of groceries, valuables and electronics arranged in the Kitchen. I really wonder where he gets them from sometimes, but I appreciate the gesture.

Tomorrow I’m going to get him a new coat of bright red paint. He’ll look so impressive in his new duds. If he’s good, he may even get a few explosive rounds. He so loves those.

[Scott]

Many people adopt pets for love and affection, but I went a different route in the summer of 2013. We’d just moved into the downtown Houston to take up a teaching position at the local university. Crime was rampant and I didn’t feel good about leaving the house with the string of breakins and I’d heard the cops were frequently on the take from the various gangs in the area. That’s when I decided to adopt “Fluffy” my Bengal Tiger. “Fluffy” and I got along splendidly from the start all though Sarah frequently looked at him warily as he seemed to want to crawl into bed with us on occasion. I’d been warned that Bengal Tigers could be aggressive beasts that would attack even their family, but Fluffy seemed a kind soul to us and those we embraced as family. He would lounge on the couch and purr with the thrum of a V4 engine at rest. Whenever we tried to play games though, it never quite worked out. He would chew squeaky toys into oblivion, which would result in complaints from our neighbors, who were all too willing to voice them from across the street.
On the whole, my plan worked smashingly. No one ever tried to rob us or even visit, until one fateful night in the middle of spring.
I was just returning from a class teaching Jack London when I heard a scream from inside the apartment. Hurriedly, I rushed up the stairs to the door which I found had been pried open. As I entered the scene before me was one I’d never forget.
Sprawled out on the floor were two men in traditional burglary gear, and atop them sat fluffy, idlely toying with them. Upon seeing this I called the police to pick up the unfortunate souls. Then I uttered the only command I’d ever taught fluffy. “Gehen Sie Aus!” With that, Fluffy raised his head and proceeded to carry each man out and toss them down the stairs. With that he proudly laid his massive 600 pound body over them and grinned cattishly.