Puppies don’t bark at nothing, do they?
OPERATION BARKWATCH: THE GHOST OF TABBY LANE.
Starring:
Bella – Garden Guardian, Scent Vigilante, Misunderstood Heroine.
Whiskers – The Phantom of Fencepost Five, Silent Menace, Master of Psychological Warfare.
Location: Backyard Perimeter
Weather: A breeze thick with feline treachery
Handler: Claire – Lawn Waterer, Sceptic, Casual Betrayer of Canine Instincts.
THE INCIDENT
Bella’s nose twitched.
There it was again.
Musk. Mischief. Malice.
Cat.
She erupted into furious barks, hurling herself at the fence like a four-legged tactical unit.
Claire appeared, smoothie in hand, wearing the exhausted expression of someone who refused to see the truth.
“Bella! There’s nothing there!”
Bella whipped around, eyes wide with betrayal.
“NOTHING?! CLAIRE, WE ARE UNDER SIEGE BY A ROGUE FELINE!”
Claire sighed. “You’re barking at the wind, Bells.”
But it wasn’t the wind.
It was Whiskers.
ENTER: THE PHANTOM
He emerged like a shadow given form—perched on the neighbour’s trellis, tail curled, eyes glinting with 900% smug.
“Morning, hound,” he purred, voice dripping with condescension. “Still shouting at ghosts, I see.”
Bella’s growl was low, lethal. “I will catch you one day, you slinky spectre of chaos.”
Whiskers examined his claws. “Doubtful. By then, your humans will have you fitted for a tiny strait jacket.“
Bella’s fur bristled. “They’ll believe me! ONE DAY THEY’LL SMELL WHAT I SMELL!”
Whiskers grinned.
“Ah yes, ‘Smell the invisible enemy.’ A classic strategy. Next, you’ll be barking at garden gnomes.”
“YOU’RE REAL!” Bella snarled. “YOU KNOCKED OVER THE COMPOST BIN LAST WEEK!”
Whiskers licked his paw, savouring the accusation.
“Allegedly. But who did Claire blame? Squirrels.”
Bella’s jaw dropped. “…You FRAMED the SQUIRRELS?”
“I frame everyone, darling. It’s art. And you? You’re the canvas of chaos.”
Another explosive bark. Claire’s voice rang out from inside:
“BELLA! FOR THE LAST TIME, THERE’S NOTHING OUT THERE!”
Whiskers chuckled, dark and velvety.
“Poor noble mutt. You fight so hard. But no one sees the war… except you.”
Bella’s claws dug into the dirt. “You’ll slip up. One day, you’ll sneeze. Or blink too loud. And THEN she’ll see you.”
Whiskers stretched, languid, victorious.
“And what will happen? I’ll rub my face on her ankle. She’ll say, ‘Awww, sweet kitty!’ And then?” He leaned in. “She’ll give me your treats.“
Bella let out a howl of existential despair and collapsed onto the grass in defeat.
CLAIRE’S OFFICIAL REPORT (HUMAN TRANSLATION)
- Incident: Bella barking at “nothing” (again)
- Conclusion: Either the dog has too much energy… or the yard is haunted
- Solution: Longer walks. Fewer treats. Maybe a dog therapist.
Meanwhile, in the shadows…
Whiskers flicked his tail, watching Bella spiral.
Another flawless victory.
