It began like any ordinary morning in the kingdom of Fluff. Athena, the regal, bi-eyed husky, known far and wide as Princess and Miss Pants, was curled upon her throne of crumpled blankets, gazing nobly out the window as if pondering the political instability of the squirrel nation beyond the fence.
Sunlight danced on her silvery fur, and her two unmatched eyes shimmered with quiet wisdom, one nearly white-blue like a glacier, the other a deep, warm chestnut that looked as if it held a hundred gentle thoughts. She was elegance incarnate, the very definition of poise on four legs. Of course, her noble image was slightly compromised by the stubborn clump of dried mud still stuck to her backside, a leftover souvenir from yesterday’s enthusiastic campaign to dig a hole straight through the flower bed and possibly into the Earth’s core.
Nine months old, the size of a baby horse, and with the coordination of a baby giraffe on roller skates, Obito was as majestic as he was completely clueless. With a black face and perfectly expressive tan eyebrows that seemed to permanently ask “Am I doing this right?”, his entire body was a soft, wiggly contradiction. His fur was black, grey, and tan, his legs chunky and always tripping over each other, and his toe beans were, frankly, legendary. He had been lovingly nicknamed Mr. Toe Beans and Love Bug, names that became all too fitting as soon as he came barreling down the hallway that morning, tail wagging so hard it might have knocked satellites out of orbit.
Athena noticed something strange almost immediately. He wasn’t barking. Or pouncing. Or galloping through the living room like a woolly freight train. He was quiet. Suspiciously quiet.
Athena lifted her head from her blanket throne, narrowed her eyes, and crept into the hallway to investigate. There, she saw Obito, completely still, standing in front of the mirror.
He was staring at it like he’d discovered a portal to another dimension.
To Obito’s credit, this mirror had only recently been moved into the hallway. It was tall, glossy, and unforgivingly accurate, which, for Obito, meant it was showing him what he assumed was a stunning and mysterious stranger.
He froze. So did the stranger.
His tail wagged. The stranger wagged too.
Obito gasped.
Athena, watching from the corner, blinked slowly. Oh no.
With heart-shaped pupils and pure devotion radiating from his big, fluffy body, Obito leaned forward and offered the mirror a soft little boof. It was the beginning of a tragic, one-sided romance.
The reflection didn’t boof back, but Obito wasn’t discouraged. He inched closer, one toe bean at a time, his nose twitching with anticipation. His fluffy cheeks puffed out with a lovestruck sigh. And then, with the enthusiasm of someone who had never been told no in his entire nine months of life, Obito smacked a big, wet, loving kiss right on the glass.
The sound it made was something between a suction cup and a sneeze.
From that moment on, he was completely besotted. He paced in front of the mirror, circling, spinning, and occasionally tripping over his own feet in excitement. He barked playfully. He flopped dramatically on the floor, tail thumping like a drum solo. He even presented his reflection with a peace offering, his most prized squeaky duck, which was missing both legs and an eye. When that failed, he galloped off and returned with a sock. Then, a carrot. He laid them gently before the mirror, a humble dog tribute to his new best friend.
Athena sat down and watched the entire performance unfold with the same energy as someone watching a toddler attempt ballet while holding a sandwich. She was far too proud to get involved, but far too entertained to walk away.
The wooing continued. Obito tried a flirtatious spin, got dizzy, and fell into the laundry basket. He tried to wag his tail while backing up and ended up knocking over a houseplant, which would never recover. He barked at the mirror with what he thought was charming gusto but sounded more like a walrus hiccupping.
Still, the mirror offered no affection in return.
Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered romance and probably a few loose brain cells, Obito launched himself at the mirror. He was going for the ultimate boop, the boop to end all boops. Athena, sensing disaster, leapt forward in a rare act of heroic intervention. But she was too late.
Obito smacked into the mirror chest-first and bounced off it like a fluffy rubber ball, landing squarely in the overturned laundry basket with a glorious flumph.
The mirror remained standing. The laundry did not.
Obito lay there dazed, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth like a cartoon character. The mirror was now thoroughly coated in slobber and smudges. A sad, rejected carrot rolled across the floor.
And that was the exact moment their human walked in.
What they saw was difficult to explain, one malamute in a laundry basket with a look of blissful confusion on his face, one husky sitting smugly nearby as if she were judging a talent show, and one large mirror that looked like it had just been attacked by a giant snail.
Obito gave his reflection one last kiss, slow and sentimental.
Athena turned and walked away with the air of someone who was absolutely telling this story at the next dog park meetup.
From that day on, the mirror was lovingly referred to as Obito’s “special friend.” It was eventually moved back to its original corner, mostly to prevent further romantic incidents. Obito never truly got over it. Even now, whenever he walks past a window or catches sight of himself in a shiny oven door, he pauses. He tilts his head. He wags his tail.
He remembers.
Athena, of course, never lets him forget it.
And the mirror? Well… it never did kiss him back. But love, as they say, is a many-splattered thing.