Jerry's Bad Fur Day

I woke to a sense of dread. It was hard to remember why. There was this feeling of wrongness. Something Bad was going to happen.

When She came downstairs, adoration sang through me, like always... but this time weighted with fear.

It’s Her. She's going to make the Bad Thing happen.

“Big day!” she said in a sing-song voice, patting my head. It wasn't comforting.

When the kids came downstairs, I couldn’t manage more than a little wag.

“What’s wrong with him, mum?” my eldest said, smelling of concern.

"Animals sense things, honey. Probably knows he’s going to the V-E-T.”

“Is he ok?” My daughter smelled worried and sad.

“He’s fine. It’s a little operation boy-dogs get to help them behave better.” She glared at me. I cringed.

After breakfast, she chivvied them into school uniforms, and wiped jam and toothpaste from the corners of their mouths.

“We’re going in the car today," She said. "I’m taking Jerry to his appointment right after.”

Normally I’d have been a quivering wreck, dying to barge out of the door, but today She dragged me, and manhandled me into the car.

There were no parking spaces outside the school, so She had no choice but to park further away and walk the children to the gate.

This was it. This was my chance.

I’d fought against this shape before, but never like this. This was fuelled by sheer balls-out terror. Something went snap. I felt my body changing...

I lay on the back seat like an animal. Sobbing, dishevelled, and stark bollock naked, but (and this is key), with opposable thumbs and a vague memory of how to use Doors.

Tumbling out on to the pavement, I started running as soon as I hit the ground.

People screamed, clapped hands over kids' eyes, held up their phones.

A naked man near a school, not good.

Running was harder in this shape, but I forced my legs to go faster. On four legs, I was her prisoner.

You’re not taking my balls, you bitch.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Word count excluding note: 366 Submitted on Monday 8th July at 23.35

*Quick Author's Note* First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 190 day streak since 1st January. Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day! Rachel Deeming Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment: I reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: I sat down and wrote this one in one sitting. It took about half an hour to write out a first draft, and another half hour to prune it down. I got inspiration for the title from the video game Conker's Bad Fur Day (totally different concept; beer swigging, hung-over squirrel.)

I always try to write these so they work as stand-alone micros. If you like, you can read this one as part of a series. Here are the others:

Thank you! Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! 😁 + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +