Rocky and Tibbles

    It was a dark
and stormy night and with their owner out for the evening, Rocky and
Tibbles were left to wait the storm out together.

    "Come on
Rocky!" Tibbbles cried. "Let's play a game." Tibbles was a
female Siamese cat. She was white with a gray face, paws and tail.
She had beautiful eyes; one blue and one green. She wore a jewel
crusted collar.

    Tibbles
was an unusual Siamese cat. She wasn't aloof or walked with her
tail in the air. She loved jumping and bouncing around with her
owner, Carol. However her favorite thing to do was play with her best
pal, Rocky.

    "Come on,
Rocky," she insisted as she jumped on his body sprawled on the
floor. "Carol is gone. We can have such fun."

    "I don't
think that's a good idea," Rocky said, his voice muffled by his
paws covering his nose.

    Rocky was a
Rottweiller. He was black with brown paws. He had sad brown eyes and
black ears that stand at attention when chased Tibbles.

    Rottwellers are
normally trained as guard dogs, but Rocky is too friendly and laid
back to protect anyone but Carol and Tibbles.

    "Tibbles. Go
away," Rocky said with his nose still covered. "You know I don't
like storms."

    "Aw come on.
We can play and you won't think about it." Tibbles continued
jumping around Rocky.

    He finally gave
in. With a loud MEOW, Tibbles shot through the den as Rocky growled
and started chasing her. He chased her through the den into the
kitchen and back again, barking as they ran.

    Just then a loud
boom split the night and the lights went out. All was quiet as Rocky
stood still in the doorway.

    "Tibbles?"
he whispered. No answer.

    "Tibbles?"
he said again. No answer.

    From above his
head came a SWOOSH as something landed on his back. Rocky howled and
ran. He stopped when he heard another noise. It was laughter.

    "Tibbles!"
he growled. Lightening shone through the window and he was able to
see her laying on her back, kicking her paws and laughing.

    "Tibbles!"
Rocky growled again.

    "You are so
funny," Tibbles said between squeals.

    "That was not
funny," Rocky said as Tibbles tried to catch her breath.

    She got up and
walked toward him. All he could see were her eyes glowing in the
dark. He plopped down on his favorite pillow.

    "Rocky? What
are you doing?" He didn't answer.

    "Are you
pouting?" Tibbles asked. He still didn't answer her. "You are
pouting." Tibbles giggled. "you are such a dog."

    Another crash
and Rocky was up running into the kitchen. He knocked over two chairs
getting under the kitchen table. He could hear Tibbles laughing in
the den.

    She crept into
the kitchen and laid beside Rocky, her nose on her paws. "I would
call you a scaredy cat, but that would insult my species. So how
about scaredy dog?" She broke off into gales of laughter.

    "I'm very
glad that my fear of storms gives you such pleasure," Rocky said
sulkily.

    "You know, the
poodle down the street you like to strut in front of wouldn't think
you were very handsome with that pout on your snout." Tibbles
giggled. "Hey I made a rhyme. Pout on your snout," she began
chanting.

    Rocky stood up,
walked past her and flopped back on his pillow.

    Tibbles dropped
to her stomach and began scooting on the hardwood floor toward Rocky.
Just as she got to him, the lights flickered and the table lamp shone
light back across the room. The clock on the stove beeped and the
light over the kitchen sink shone bright again.

    "See Rocky?"
Tibbles said. "The lights are back on. You don't need to be
afraid anymore."

    "It's still
raining," he replied. Look at the patio doors." The rain was
splattering harshly against the window panes. HIT! SPLAT! DRIP!

    "But we are
inside," Tibbles said as she started jumping around Rocky again.
"We can't get wet and the lights are back."

    And again....
The lights went out.

    "Oh....'"
Rocky moaned. "Here we go again."

    This time they
both heard a strange noise. Even Tibbles stopped jumping and laid
with Rocky on his pillow.

    "What was
that?" she whispered.

    "SHHHH!" he
demanded.

    They were very
quiet and hear the noise again. It sounded like scratching and it was
coming from the kitchen. The scratching continued, but now sounded
like knives cutting metal.

    Rocky put his
paws over his head and said, "Tibbles, there's something in the
kitchen."

    "So let's
see what it is."

    "Are you
crazy?" Rocky whispered loudly. "It's raining and storming and
now there's something in the kitchen. Haven't you had enough
excitement for one night?"

    "But I'm not
scared and I want to see what is making that noise." She must have
spoken too loudly because the noise stopped.

    After a few
seconds of quiet, the noise began again and kept getting louder.

    "This is
ridiculous," Tibbles told Rocky. "I am a brave Siamese and you
are a brave Rottweiller. We need to protect Carol. So we need to find
out what that is."

    "You may be
brave, but I'm not."

    "You are only
afraid of storms, not bumps in the night," argued Tibbles.

    "Ok, so I
lied," Rocky retorted. "I'm afraid of ALL noises in the dark."

    They had been
whispering and abruptly stopped when another strange noise filled the
air.

    Scratch.
Scratch. Ting. Scratch. Scratch. Ting.

    "Now what?"
Tibbles had had enough. She stalked toward the kitchen.

    "Noooooo!"
Rocky howled. She kept stalking.