In a perfectly average suburban neighborhood where lawn gnomes feared for their lives and squirrels filed restraining orders, lived two absolutely bonkers, four-legged agents of mayhem: Athena the Husky and Obito the Malamute.
Athena, age one, fur was a beautiful blend of grey, black, and white, like a snowstorm had swirled into a dog and then added a splash of personality for flair., heart like a marshmallow soaked in drama, and eyes that looked like God couldn’t decide if she was a wolf or a Disney princess. One was a frosty blue that said “I read Nietzsche,” the other a warm chestnut that screamed “let’s commit arson but make it cozy.” She was elegant, intelligent, soft-hearted, gentle, energetic, and also, somehow, stubborn enough to argue with gravity. She could leap over the couch in a single bound, knock over a grown man in socks, and land delicately in a blanket fort like a caffeinated ballerina. 
Her dislikes? Wet paws. Grass. Morning dew. Tuesday humidity. Basically anything that hinted she might not be 100% dry and regal at all times. Unless, of course, you took her to a muddy field, then she transformed into a swamp gremlin who dug like she was being paid by the worm. 
Her favorite hobbies included Olympic-level snuggling, high-speed parkour through your living room, and terraforming the garden like she was trying to summon the god of dandelions. The flower beds never stood a chance. She had nicknames, of course. “Princess” when she was being noble. “Miss Pants” when she was doing something like somersaulting into a laundry basket while howling at a leaf.
Then there was her brother, Obito. A nine-month-old malamute whose body was 80% fluff, 20% feet, and 100% confusion. His paws were comically large, like someone installed bear hands on a puppy. His face was mostly black, with eyebrows that looked like punctuation marks expressing constant surprise. The rest of him looked like a poorly shuffled deck of fur colors.
Obito was affection incarnate. His love language? Full-mouth facial slaps of wet kisses followed by trying to sit on your lap like a 110-pound meat loaf with abandonment issues. His smile was so goofy it could un-burn toast. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, more like a flashlight with a dying battery, but he had heart, and that was more than enough. Nicknames included “Mr. Toe Beans,” “Love Bug,” and “Stop That You’re Crushing My Spleen.”
And together, they had a mission.
Athena, in all her wisdom, had discovered the greatest threat to their kingdom: The Mailman.
To the average human, he was just Steve, a pleasant guy who delivered Amazon packages with a smile and wore khaki shorts year-round. But Athena knew the truth. He was a dark wizard. A harbinger of paper-based curses. A mailmancer.
Every day he approached the house, wielding his bag of doom, flinging bills like hexes and catalogues like arcane sigils of boredom. Athena watched from the window, eyes narrowed, tail twitching with barely-contained fury. She knew she had to prepare.
So she began training Obito in the ancient canine martial art of Bork-Kwon-Do.
Obito didn’t quite grasp the subtleties. He thought “strike fast, strike hard” meant “fall down the stairs while barking at a shoe.” But he was enthusiastic, and Athena believed in him. Mostly.
The fateful day came when a suspiciously large Amazon box was left on the doorstep. Athena immediately called Code Red (or as she called it, "Fluffy Lockdown Alpha"). 
“Obito!” she barked. “Battle stations! The Mailman Sorcerer has escalated. This box is too big. It must contain a spell. Or... another vacuum.”
Together, they deployed a strategic defense grid, chew toys positioned like caltrops, a puddle of drool by the door for slip hazards, and a complex decoy system involving a stuffed llama named Gerald. Athena smeared peanut butter on the doorknob to cause magical confusion. Obito, for his part, started licking the peanut butter and forgot they were at war.
As the mailman approached, Athena launched the offensive: high-speed borking, twirls, zoomies, and frantic leaps that would’ve impressed NASA. Obito joined in by slamming his full weight against the door, which flung open unexpectedly and launched him into the bushes, from which only his enormous toe beans were visible.
The mailman blinked. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ,” he muttered, placing the package down slowly, as Athena lunged out just far enough to touch the corner of the box with her snout like she was defusing a bomb. Obito returned from the bushes, covered in twigs and shame, and gave the mailman a kiss right on the shin.
“Dark magic neutralized,” Athena declared.
“Floppy butt achieved,” Obito added.
The mailman fled.
The house was safe once again, thanks to the tireless (and utterly ridiculous) efforts of Princess Pants and Mr. Toe Beans, heroes of the Realm of Bark.
And that night, as Athena snuggled deep into her twenty-three blankets like a burrito of majestic fluff, and Obito snored upside down with all four legs in the air like a possessed rocking horse, they both dreamed of squirrels... and the day they’d finally destroy the vacuum.
Or at least catch it off guard.

©️Lainey Green - Intwined.blog.

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