The Dreaded Closet Monster
I can’t see it, I can’t hear it, but I know it waits.
Very soon, I suspect my human will carry it from its lair for one of those odd wrestling trysts on the rug.
The dreaded closet monster!
For the life of my doggie self, I cannot figure these episodes out. I’ve watched my human and this... this thing... locked in lethal combat: a flailing of coiled and twisted serpentine appendages... a relentless growling, nay... a snARling... that cannot be claimed by neither man nor beast.
The sight and sound of this loathsome creature compels me to save my human from what could be a most unthinkable, unimaginable fate worse than... well, death. For me, both outcomes have similar implications. I mean... who, then, would feed me? Who, then, would open the back door?
I wish my human understood this. She only seems to growl twice as loudly at this fiend whenever I try to protect her from it.
"BLAHBLAHLULU!!!" she yells (which is humanese for "STOPITLULU!!!") as she struggles to pull that repulsive segmented neck away from me. Little does she know that if I let go of this sucking mouthpart, she, meaning my human, will be sucked into oblivion. Forever, I think... and forever is a long time without doggie treats. THAT, dear friends, is a clearcut struggle betwixt good and not so good.
Hmm... sucked into oblivion. A mouth-watering thought just came to me.
Oh, Miss Kittttttttttttttttttttty....