Magical adventures of Charlie’s snow globe

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Charlie’s Corner is the domain of Charlie, the furry four-legged lady’s man of Market Common. Each month, he’ll share information to help all new, visiting, and existing doggie community members get the most out of life alongside their human companions. Here, we’ll feature his reflections on what it’s like to be a dashing downtown doggie, as he reminds all of our how to play well together. This month finds Charlie still savoring the magical pleasures of his snow globe world, when he encounters a potential Valentine’s Day suitor.  

Continued from last month…

“Yes! Pleaaaaase,” I reply.

“We have every flavor you could possible want,” Spring gushes. “Pumpkinvanillachickenroastedpotatobrussellsproutbeethamburgerlimabeancheddarcheeserosemarytunafisholivecoffeespinach.”

“Wow!” I say. “That sounds a little gross. Spinach?”

“Ice cream is the only thing we eat here, so it comes in every flavor of food that there is,” she says. “And antioxidants are important.”

After much deliberation I settle on chicken and parsnips ice cream with lemon soufflé flavored ice cream for dessert. It’s actually delicious, and tastes smoother than I thought it was possible for chicken to taste.

Spring takes me deeper inside her palace where the winter festival celebrations are in full swing. People are sledding down hallways and stairs and ice skating around rooms. I join in the party to crawl through mini igloo tunnels, and build snow forts and lay siege to our opponents by pouring hot cocoa over their ramparts. It’s so much fun I don’t even notice the passage of time. Until…someone has their eye on me. Valentine’s Day must be approaching, or I’m even more dashing than I thought.

It is Petunia, the 900lb polar bear. And she has decided that I am to be her paramour. I’m snacking on a salmon and steak tartare ice cream with a side of creme brûlée ice cream, when we meet.

“Oh!” she exclaims, stopping dead in her tracks, “Mais Oui! But zee are zee cutest little thing I have ever seen! You are mine.”

And so saying, she scoops me up in her considerable paws, and presses me to her bosom. In addition to whatever other objections I might harbor from such a match (is she merely excited to eat me!?) in her ardor, she has squashed my ice cream by sitting on it, after I unceremoniously flung it in sheer terror at her approach. Petunia does not seem to notice my chagrin at the loss of my salmon special, probably because she is suffocating me in her embrace, muffling my yips of protest.

“Never have I zeen such a coat of fur! Zee rival only moi meme for whiteness and sleekness,” she cries.  

I have to hand it to her, she does have a point; I am very attractive. But before I can say anything, Petunia has bounded away with me back to her home in the forest, chattering away…in French…? Polar bears speak French? How did this escape me?

I spend the duration of the journey attempting to extract large tufts of fur from my mouth, and finally give up.

When we arrive at her home, she draws a bath and unceremoniously tumbles me in. I feel a bit affronted. I pride myself on my excellent hygiene. Also all this is rather personal for a first meeting; bath time is a private matter, and we haven’t even discussed our common likes yet. Then she pulls out a scrub brush and gets to work on me.

I sigh in resignation, and hiccup a bath bubble. This is no ice cream experience for sure, but at least it’s warm.

But it’s after bath time that my silent horror takes hold. Petunia, I realize, does not have romantic intentions with me. It’s much worse than even that. She thinks I’m her new doll! She blow-dries my fur and begins to fluff and brush and braid it, adding bows, clips and ribbons, applying bright red blush to the fur around my cheeks. All the while chattering away, and giving me a fierce growl every time I attempt to protest. By the time she adorns me in a vibrant pink tutu and pearls, I’ve had it.

We are definitely not compatible.

To be continued…

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