by Kruxly » Thu Apr 10, 2025 6:21 am
Username: Kruxly
Name: GSK Jokes On You - Cam
Gender: Male
Name Meaning: [optional]
Prompt: (Word count - 434)
Cam was a three-year-old beaumont collie with a heart full of sunshine and a head full of mischief. He was usually well-behaved, the kind of dog who’d tilt his head at commands, sit patiently for treats, and greet guests with tail wags that could power a small wind turbine. But Cam had one known weakness: the living room couch.
It was off-limits. Very clearly, very repeatedly, off-limits.
But one rainy Tuesday afternoon, something changed.
His humans had left for work like usual, giving him a chew toy, a peanut butter Kong, and the standard “Be good, Cam” on the way out. He watched them leave with a soft whine, then curled up on the rug. But then — thunder. A low, grumbling roar that shook the windows and rumbled through the house like a distant monster waking up.
Cam hated thunder.
At first, he paced. Then he barked a few warning woofs at the storm, just in case it was listening. But the sky kept growling, louder now. He needed comfort. He looked around — his toy was no help. The crate felt too small. Then he saw it: the couch.
The plush, forbidden throne of softness.
Cam hesitated. He knew. Oh, he knew. His ears drooped, and he gave one last nervous glance at the front door, as if expecting his humans to pop in and say “Ah-ha!” But they didn’t.
The first jump was tentative. The cushions gave under his paws like clouds. The second jump, onto the backrest, was full-on rebellion. Cam spun a circle, nestling into the cosiest, highest point, as thunder boomed overhead.
Then something inside him snapped. Maybe it was the static in the air, maybe it was stress, or maybe it was just the sheer joy of the forbidden — but Cam lost it. Pillows flew. Cushion stuffing exploded into the air like popcorn. He dug, shredded, tossed, and spun in a frenzy of pure, storm-fuelled defiance.
By the time his humans got home, the couch looked like a crime scene. Fluff on every surface. Springs exposed like ribs. Cam sat proudly in the wreckage, tail thumping, brown heart melting eyes wide and innocent as if to say, “It was self-defence!”
They couldn’t even be mad for long. He hadn’t done it for fun (well, not only for fun). The storm had gotten to him, and in his dog-logic, the couch was the safest, softest stronghold against the thunderous apocalypse outside.
Still, Cam got a stern talking-to. And a new designated thunder buddy blanket — far from the couch.
Which he only tore up a little...
Last edited by
Kruxly on Thu Apr 10, 2025 6:57 am, edited 1 time in total.