Information


Valyn has a minion!

Squeaks the Squeaky Ball Minion




Valyn


The Custom Marsh Kumos
Owner: Shantal

Age: 3 years, 11 months, 2 weeks

Born: December 29th, 2015

Adopted: 3 years, 11 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: December 29th, 2015


Pet Spotlight Winner
August 26th, 2018

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


Story

My collection of balls started when I was just a little pup romping around with my littermates. It was a squeaky blue ball some child had lost at the edge of the forest. I had a great time tossing it into the air and chasing it down, pretending it was a great elk I was stalking. At least, until my brothers and sisters found me.

They were always dragging me around by my tail or stepping on the feathers in their hurry to get the prime scraps of meat from the bones Mother brought. Sometimes I think they held me back on purpose. I was by no means the runt of the litter but I may as well have been. My blasted tail never allowed me to hide in the squirming bodies of my littermates when I'd done something naughty. It always gave me away.

Mother reassured me that my uniqueness would get me a beautiful mate and a pack of my own to be proud of when I was grown.

I'm still waiting to see that happen, though I can't complain too loudly. While most of my brothers and sisters are struggling to feed themselves and sleeping in the rain, I've managed to get myself a nice little house on the edge of the lake. The room humans typically use to wash their exterior furs has been repurposed to house the 73 balls in my collection.

The humans in these parts are tolerant of educated animals, as long as we steal no food and make ourselves useful by finding some kind of work. A wolf can always get a few coins for hauling heavy loads or rounding up stupid chickens with a well-aimed show of teeth.

There are squeaky balls and knobby balls, balls that bounce high into the air and balls that are shaped like the heads of animals. I even have a ball that changes colors every time you give it a swat. The blue ball is my special favorite, seated on a little red cushion at the back of the room so I will never lose it in a moment of chaotic play. It is the ball that bounces the best on any surface, the one that can always put me in a good mood.

Today I'm feeling like carrying the shiny red ball that will roll forever if nothing gets in its way. The playground is sure to be full of children but I can't resist sending my super ball down the big plastic slide. The chain link fence will stop it from being crushed in the street and it will fly back. If I time it just right, I can catch it in my mouth and maybe even get a few cheers.

The little boy delights in my game and soon asks to join me in play. His ball is a worn baseball with frayed strings, one that looks near the point of falling apart. He hits it with his little plastic bat, sending it sailing over the concrete. I take care in how I catch it, not wanting to make the child cry if it should fall to pieces. I drop it at his feet, tolerating the gentle fingers in my ruff as he strokes me. I am no dog but I do not mind being petted, as long as the child does not yank at my fur.

My tail waves without my permission, bursting out in an embarrassing fan display. I drop the boy's ball in shame, snatching up my own ball and racing for home with my traitor tail tucked as far under my body as it will go. I nearly stumble over the feathers as it refuses to comply to my wishes, strengthening my need to get away from the laughing crowd. It will be many moons before I'll dare to go back to that playground. The thought makes me growl and curse my tail for the thousandth time.

It thwarts my wishes again as I attempt to curl up for sleep. Every night I must fight the same battle, circling to make the cushions on the bed comfortable then leaping up when one of the feathers settles wrong and gives me a pinch. How I wish I had the slender, bushy tail of a wolf and not this feathered curse!

The sun is high as I rise in the morning. I am glad to live alone. I would not want any living creature to see the undignified sprawl of four paws in the air and a peacock tail spread like a beach towel beneath my body.

I can tell the day is going to be hot so I make my way to the beach down the road, a rainbow beach ball clutched very carefully in my jaws. I leave the ball hidden beneath a patch of seaweed so that it will not be stolen. The lure of frying clam strips is too good to ignore. I make sure my pay pouch is visible on my shoulder as I approach the vendor. There are just a few humans in front of me and one weasel who is in the process of ordering a snow cone. A man walks up to stand behind me in line. I am glad to see how relaxed he seems to be. We start talking about the increase in traffic and the city festival coming up in a week. He comments on the rumor that more sharks are moving into the area. My eyes are trying to meet his but he cannot avoid staring at the curse on my back. I politely offer him my place in line, my appetite suddenly gone.

At least my beach ball is where I left it. I bat it to and fro on the sand but my heart's not in it. It has acquired a fine coating of sand that should discourage unruly children so I do not bother to hide it this time. The sun is getting fierce and I feel like a swim.

My tail is as unwelcome a weight as my fur but the coolness of the water almost makes up for the fact that I feel there is a whole pack of wolf pups riding me. I stay in until my legs begin to ache. Shaking the water out of my coat gives me a whole section of beach to myself for a few moments but the tourists never keep their distance for long. I find an ideal spot to lie in the sun, placing one protective paw over my beach ball and enjoying the sensation of fur drying out slowly.

A trio of boys dashes past, their bare feet slapping the sand as they shout and hoot. One foot comes down hard on my feathers, bringing me to my feet with a pained yelp. The boys are so absorbed in their game that they take no notice. Most of my fur is dry and I will never resume the lovely nap they interrupted so I decide to turn tail for home.

It is always my tail that costs me moments of joy. I turn on the hose in the backyard, cleaning beach ball and paws alike so sand will not get all over my collection. My need for cheering up calls for something better than a game of bounce off the walls or swat and catch.

I have a special room in my house just for playing with the blue ball that bounces better than any other. I can get that ball sailing across the room so fast that even my quick jaws can't catch it! What fun! What joy! What...

I should know better than to allow myself to get carried away. My tail explodes in a fan of feathers, earning me a good whack on the side of the head when my attention is diverted for a second too long. At least no one is here to see me looking like a fool.

Credits

Owner: Shantal
Story by Pureflower
Profile by Shantal
Profile Art by kira_003
Overlay by Ursa

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Pet Friends


Styxx
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Venik
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