It began like any other afternoon in the Kingdom of Chaos, also known as the back garden. Athena, the elegant and majestic Siberian husky with the eyes of an ice sorceress and a coffee-loving poet, sat perched on a patio chair like a queen who had just learned her royal garden had been re-landscaped... again... by her own paws. Her coat gleamed black, grey, and white, the colors of sophistication, cunning, and at least three unauthorized flowerbed excavations.
She was beautiful. She was brilliant. She was wearing a blanket cape she'd dragged off the couch and was refusing to give back. The humans called her "Princess" or "Miss Pants," depending on whether she'd just snuggled them lovingly or shredded their begonias.
Enter Obito. A Malamute of unholy toe-bean proportions. At ten months old, Obito was roughly the size of a baby buffalo with the grace of a drunk toddler in a windstorm. His face was a dramatic mask of black and tan with expressive eyebrows that made him look like he was perpetually auditioning for a soap opera. His joy in life? Food. Kisses. More food. And Athena. He worshipped her. He followed her like a loyal, fuzzy wrecking ball.
And then there was Munchkin.
Oh, Munchkin.
A tabby cat with the patience of a monk and the sass of a gremlin who just found out the Wi-Fi password. He was small, sassy, and convinced he was the true overlord of the household. He had claws sharp enough to fillet a watermelon and a disdain for canine nonsense that could curdle milk. And yet, somehow, he tolerated Athena’s blanket hoarding and Obito’s accidental tail-sits with a quiet vengeance and a deeply passive-aggressive stare.
On this fateful day, the trio stumbled upon an innocent, abandoned bottle of bubble solution.
It should’ve ended there.
But fate and opposable thumbs had other plans.
Athena, sniffing the bottle with great suspicion and authority, gave it a mighty nudge. It rolled. Obito barked at it. Loudly. Like it owed him rent. Munchkin watched from a safe distance, eyes narrowed, calculating insurance premiums.
Then came the turning point. The human child had left the bubble wand on the grass.
Athena, with the grace of a real princess and the subtlety of a bulldozer, grabbed it and began flinging her head, releasing a geyser of bubbles. The yard filled with shimmering orbs that floated into the sky like dreams and popped like hopes in a group chat.
Obito LOST HIS MIND.
He screamed. He leapt. He tried to EAT them. One landed on his nose and he forgot how to dog for a full minute. Legs everywhere. Tail whirling like a malfunctioning helicopter. He barked so hard, a bubble blew out of his own mouth. Athena wheezed. Literally wheezed. The Princess had entered full gremlin mode.
Then, the unthinkable.
Obito tripped over his own paws (again), somersaulted into the bubble bottle, and boom.
Bubble. Tsunami.
It was like Willy Wonka and Glinda the Good Witch had thrown a foam rave in their back garden. Bubbles flew everywhere. Obito became a walking soap monster. Athena looked like she had just been crowned Miss Universe: Bubble Edition. Munchkin was gone. Just gone. He had yeeted himself straight up a tree and was glaring down from a branch like a vengeful squirrel god.
Obito, now blind from bubbles, licked the air aggressively, convinced that was helping. He accidentally snogged a lawn gnome.
Athena was spinning like a majestic beyblade of chaos, leaping through clouds of bubbles like she was auditioning for the canine Olympics.
And then because fate wasn’t done the sprinkler system activated.
The garden became a foam pit. Munchkin yowled. Obito slipped, landed on his back, and just stayed there, tongue out, eyes full of joy and confusion. Athena leapt onto the patio table in triumph, bubbles clinging to her like sparkly armor.
The humans came running. And skidded. And fell. One of them landed in the kiddie pool. The dogs thought this was a new game. Obito brought them a muddy sock. Athena brought them a half-chewed hydrangea.
Munchkin just shook his head and slowly descended from the tree like a feline war general returning from battle.
By the end of the chaos, everyone was soaked, the lawn was a sudsy cratered mess, and Athena had wrapped herself burrito-style in a stolen towel, declaring herself Bubble Queen of the Realm. Obito slept belly-up on the patio, drooling happily and burping softly from accidentally ingesting 47 bubbles.
From that day forward, tales of The Great Bubble Battle spread far and wide (mainly to neighbors who were still finding bubbles in their bushes a week later).
And although the garden never quite recovered and the patio still smelled faintly of lavender soap and wet dog, the legend lived on. For in that back garden, where chaos bloomed and bubbles burst, a princess, a love bug, and one judgmental tabby found the true meaning of joy.
Which is, of course, cause maximum mischief, lick everything, and blame the cat.


©️Lainey Green - Intwined.blog