Prelude: The Odd Kid

My family is very caring. I feel loved and I know I love them. Sometimes I feel anxious when they leave me behind and go off somewhere without me, but it’s short lived anxiety. They always return. At least so far they have always returned. They always ask me ridiculous questions when they finally come home.

“Did you miss me? Were you a good boy? Are you hungry?”

In someways, my family is very smart and in other ways very stupid. They can do magical things beyond my understanding. They can pilot vehicles at enormous velocity and create light in the room with a flick of a hand. At the same time, they appear to be deaf, blind, and their noses are seriously plugged up. Their responses to my communications, my speaking to them is mostly unheeded. Their inability to recognize my speech and aptly respond is due to profound denseness or insensitivity. It is indicative of an inability or lack of desire to understand me. I understand them. Every word, every nuance of odor, body language, tone, facial expression, and fluctuations in their aura intensity. I can read them like a book. Like books. They are three.

There is mom and dad. Those are their names, because that’s what the other kid calls them. His name is Virgil. We are siblings of a sort. Our status is about the same. Mom and dad order both of us around and prepare food for each of us, and for themselves.

Virgil and I are best friends and playmates. We even sleep together on the same bed. We are siblings but Virgil is not my brother. Virgil is more like mom and dad in that he is stupid like them. Fails to understand the simplest things I say.

For example, I suggest we go for a run and an exploration. Exhibiting excitement and enthusiasm to my maximum power of expression, I intend to imbue Virgil with the same mood, but no. Virgil decides I want to go for a walk and we go for a boring walk. How dumb and obtuse can you get? Well, at least we are outside and I try to entice Virgil to play. A good roughhouse would be enjoyable, but no. Virgil wants a sedate walk while he puzzles over things that confuse him.

Never mind confusing things, experience the joy of the moment. Either he doesn’t hear me, or is too preoccupied with worry. Why worry? Virgil is a very odd kid. Why can’t he be more athletic like me? I love him though and I’m not mad at him. Just sorry for him.

Who am I to talk. Right now, I am very worried. They have always returned home, the same day, albeit much later in the day at times, but returned the same day they left. Never gone overnight.

Until now.

My family left three days ago, and I haven’t seen them since. The have not returned home. Yes I am feeling anxious and worried. Although I am not supposed to be on the couch, it’s the best vantage point. From the elevated position on the couch, I can see and watch out the window for the family vehicle to return. I watched them leave in that vehicle three days ago, and when they leave in the vehicle they return in it, at minimum one returns in it. No sign of the vehicle.

Something is wrong. I know it, I sense it, I can feel it. If I could get out of the house, I would search for them, but I’m a prisoner, locked inside. I feel sick with worry. My tail droops and I have no appetite.

Chapter 1 »