The morning mist over London’s Tower was delicate, almost regal, as if the city itself were whispering, “Today, history will happen.” Athena perched atop a low stone wall, her fur gleaming and her tail swishing with the controlled elegance of a duchess attending court. She cast a critical eye over the Tower’s ancient walls, the weathered stones, and the ceremonial guards who stood as stoic as statues. “Ah,” she murmured, “the embodiment of centuries of tradition and restraint.”
Obito, on the other paw, interpreted tradition differently. He interpreted it as everything in sight must be investigated, chased, and conquered with maximum enthusiasm. He had already leapt into a shallow puddle by the moat, sending a geyser of water toward an unsuspecting goose. The goose, unamused, honked with indignation and flapped into a nearby guard’s polished helmet, which rang like a bell tolling the beginning of chaos. Athena groaned audibly. “Obito, this is history, not a water park!”
Obito ignored her, choosing instead to investigate a group of ceremonial guards. To him, they were the world’s tallest, most rigid playmates. He charged with a joyous bark, ricocheting off polished boots and sending helmets spinning into the moat. Athena raced after him, her paws clicking across the cobblestones, attempting diplomacy, restraint, and elegance all at once, a combination that Obito treated like a competitive sport.
The Tower’s ravens, ever wise and ever sarcastic, watched from their perches. They cawed, flapped, and seemed to be laughing at the muddy, barking spectacle. Athena tried to maintain her dignity while tugging at Obito’s collar, only for him to twist mid-leap and send a ceremonial pike tumbling across the courtyard, narrowly missing a visiting tour group. Children screamed with delight, tourists photographed every moment, and Athena felt the faintest stirring of pride. Perhaps, in Obito’s chaos, a new kind of history was being written.
The pièce de résistance came when Obito spotted the Queen’s ceremonial robes on display for the public, a cascade of velvet, satin, and golden embroidery that, to him, was obviously a new and enormous tug toy. Before Athena could intercept, he lunged, sliding across the polished stone floors in a blur of fur and tail. He became entangled, twirling like a furry ribbon through velvet folds, sending Athena flailing in a desperate attempt to rescue him. By the time the security guards caught up, Obito had emerged triumphant, seated regally on a pile of robes as if he were a new ruler of the Tower. Athena, coated in mud, goose droppings, and a stray feather, merely sighed, her eyes betraying equal parts exasperation and admiration.
By midday, the visitors had experienced a Tower of London unlike any other: a mud-splattered husky, a triumphant malamute, honking geese, and guards who had learned that sometimes history can’t be taken too seriously. Athena finally sat atop a stone parapet, her tail flicking, watching as Obito chased a raven in dizzying circles. The bird cawed in what Athena suspected was laughter, and she realized a truth she had long avoided: Obito didn’t just make chaos, he made history memorable.
As the sun climbed high, the Tower, the guards, the tourists, and the ravens all settled into an uneasy truce. Athena leaned over, pressing her muddy paw against Obito’s shoulder. “You are, without a doubt, impossible,” she said. Obito, chest heaving with pride, licked her face and barked a sound that could only mean, and yet, I am magnificent.
The Tower of London had survived another day. 
History, it seemed, was in very good paws.

©️Lainey-Intwined.blog 🇬🇧

🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧