It was two days after the obedience school incident, and Athena had been brooding like a misunderstood poet in a coffee shop. She had not forgotten the banana-flavored liver treats. Nor the floral leash. Nor the vest with “Student in Training” written in Comic Sans, which was a personal insult to her royal aesthetic.
Obito, on the other hand, was still wearing his vest and trying to train the vacuum cleaner to sit. He was failing. The vacuum, unimpressed, had eaten two of his toys and a single slice of ham that no one ever figured out how it got there.
Munchkin, ever smug, was napping on the kitchen counter like he paid the mortgage and didn’t like the company. He had done what cats do best: created chaos and taken a nap immediately afterward.
That’s when Athena called a secret meeting.
It was 2 a.m. Obito arrived late because he got stuck inside a laundry basket. Again.
Athena stood on the ottoman, which she had declared "The Throne of Vengeance," and addressed her brother with the gravitas of a general plotting war.
“We’re going back to obedience school,” she growled.
Obito’s tail wagged so hard he knocked over a lamp. “YAY! I love snack class!”
Athena narrowed her eyes. “Not as students, you walking marshmallow. As liberators.”
Obito blinked. “Like… with snacks?”
Athena sighed. “Sure. With snacks.”
The plan was simple. They’d sneak into Pawfect Pup Obedience School, free the dogs, and destroy all records of their personal shame, including the video Miss Cheryl took of Obito trying to hump a punching bag.
By 3 a.m., they were out the door.
Athena led the way, a blur of grey and white fluff, eyes glinting in the moonlight, one icy blue, one rich chestnut, both filled with righteous fury. Obito followed, his massive paws slapping the pavement like someone trying to sneak with flip-flops on. He was carrying a backpack filled with essential rebellion supplies: three tennis balls, a half-eaten sandwich, and what he thought was a map but was actually just a takeout menu.
They arrived at the obedience school and found it dark, locked, and alarmingly full of motion-sensing gnomes.
“No worries,” Athena said, licking the keypad.
Obito stared. “Is that how doors work?”
“No,” she replied. “But it feels powerful.”
Obito, using the brute-force method known as ‘moose with no spatial awareness,’ body-slammed the side gate open. They were in.
Inside, the place was eerily quiet. Plastic cones stood like sad little monuments to dignity lost. Bartholomew’s bowtie hung on a peg, abandoned. The banana liver treat jar was locked up like government secrets.
Athena padded toward the office, where she believed the files of shame were kept.
Obito, meanwhile, wandered off and accidentally triggered the agility tunnel, launching himself through it at warp speed, emerging with a traffic cone on his head and a wild look in his eyes.
“ATHENA, I’M FAST NOW,” he screamed, crashing into a mop bucket.
Athena found the computer and tried to destroy the videos.
She pawed at the keyboard. It played the training montage instead.
Obito appeared on screen, wearing a tutu, trying to “sit” but instead falling sideways and rolling into a poodle.
The poodle sued.
Athena snarled, yanked the power cord, and smashed the printer just to be safe.
Then came the liberation.
They reached the kennel room, where five dogs were asleep in various positions that screamed, “I have seen things.” Among them was Bartholomew, looking existential.
Athena barked once.
Bartholomew opened one eye. “Are we being freed, or is this another team-building exercise?”
“Freedom,” Athena growled.
“Do we get snacks?”
“Yes.”
“Lead me.”
Obito accidentally opened the wrong gate and released a chihuahua named Princess Chaos who immediately bit him on the ankle and declared herself overlord of the hallway.
Within minutes, chaos broke loose. Dogs everywhere. Tunnels were being tunneled, cones chewed, someone found the squeaky toys, and all trust in indoor plumbing was lost.
Then came the alarm.
A wailing sound like a dying kazoo filled the building.
Obito panicked and shoved two tennis balls in his mouth.
Athena shouted, “TO THE EXIT!”
As they all fled through the chaos, dragging blankets, cones, and at least one motivational poster with a golden retriever on it, they burst out into the night, tails flying, howling with joy.
They returned home just before sunrise.
Covered in glitter stickers, bits of tunnel foam, and victory.
Munchkin met them at the door.
He glanced at Athena.
She smirked.
He nodded once.
Then knocked a glass off the counter for good measure.
Athena collapsed into her blanket throne, Obito drooled in triumph, and somewhere in the distance, Miss Cheryl checked her inbox and saw a single anonymous email that read:
We have your bowtie.


©️Lainey Green - Intwined.blog