The Grand Adventures of General Macaroni
The Clash of Canidae
“Well, that’s enough rumpus time, pups,” he addressed the litter, “It’s time to settle down and listen to another Grampy story.”
“Story time!” The puppies shouted. They ran around the room, tripping on their oversized paws. Cheddar and Brie picked up one of the blankets and began a snarling tug-of-war match war over it.
“That’s enough, you too!” The retired general barked.
He ran over to them, yanked the blanket out of their mouths, and dragged it over to the story telling nook. As he laid it on top of his own blanket, Mac grumbled, “Now lay down unless you want me to take all of your blankies.”
Tucking their tails, the puppies slowly spun around three times, and laid across the blankets.
“That’s better. You know, your little tussle reminds me of the Clash of Canidae that happened about 40 dog years ago,” General Mac shifted his eyebrows back and forth playfully.
“Grampy, what’s cani-candindee-day?” Asked Colby, tilting his head to the side.
“Well, Canidae is what human scientists classify us dog-like species as a family,” he paused, seeing the puppies all tilt their heads in confusion. “Uh, in other words, we are considered part of the Canidae family, as well as wolves and coyotes. We’re not all technically the same species, but we’re very closely related.”
Brie blurted out, “Like cousins?”
“Yes, Brie! Just like cousins,” he sneezed and then coughed as he remembered his train of thought.
“So the Clash of Canidae was a war between us, and our, uh, cousins - the wolves,” he howled his best wolf impression.
As the puppies joined in on the howl, Cheddar questioned in awe, “Grampy, you fought against wolves?”
Raising his right eyebrow mischievously, he replied, “That’s right, Ched. And I am going to tell you all about it right now. You rapscallions ready?”
“Yes!” The puppies wagged their tails with anticipation.
“After the Anklebiters of Caninesville defeated the shadow beasts, a strange smell blew into town,” he tried mimicking the blowing wind, but the air squeaked through his teeth in a high pitched whistle. “Well, you know how the wind sounds. Anyway, we caught a whiff of something strange, and decided to check it out.”
The old dog began walking around the room, pretending to sniff around. “You see, when I was the General, my ol’ schnoz could sniff out anything from my human hiding bacon to a new dog all the way across town,” he sniffed at the puppies, making them giggle as he pretended to gag from their stench, which in turn made him actually gag.
“Whew, ‘scuze me there, whippersnappers,” clearing his throat, he continued. “So Shadow, Princess, Carl, and I went on a little late night patrol, hunting for this peculiar, yet familiar, smell in the air.”
“Was Carl your human, Grampy?” Asked Muenster shyly.
Mac chuckled, “No, dear. Carl was the Shih Tzu that lived across the street from me. He identified as a human, or his humans thought he was a human, or…” he stopped to think. “Well, his humans called him Carl, I don’t remember why. You know, humans do weird things.”
“Anyway, we reached the edge of the city, and that’s when we found them - a pack of wolves, skulking around in the night. We barked over to them, hoping for a friendly encounter,” he paused, waiting for the tension to be palpable and then resumed, “Boy, were we wrong.”
“What happened?!” The puppies cried.
“Just after we gave them the greeting bark, the wolves turned their heads to the moon and howled in the most bone-chilling way. In an instant, they came racing towards us, clouds of dust trailing behind them. There had to be at least ten, but we tucked tail and ran to get the rest of the squadron - us four would have been no match for them.”
General Mac bit his leg a few times, and then continued his story.
“Once we gathered the rest of the troops, we made a strategic plan to surround them on all sides. With fifty of us, and ten of them, we would be able to take them - no matter how much taller they were than us. So we circled around their den on the edge of town, slowly crawling on our bellies toward them.”
He crawled around the room briefly, and then returned to his pile of blankets, spinning around three times before laying down.
“On my command, the Anklebiters lunged forward, attacking the wolves with our spears, swords, and flails. Slicing and pulverizing their legs first, we incapacitated them before they could even make a move. Our metal was bathed in blood, and all but the Alpha weeped for mercy,” his stare was cold and callous as he replayed the memory in his mind.
Shaking his head briefly, Mac advanced the story, “I approached the Alpha, slamming my sword in the dirt. Giving him my best snarl, I demanded he and any survivors leave, and never return. He flashed his huge teeth at me, and I barked so loud, the ground seemed to shake.”
“Then what happened?” Brie squealed.
“The Alpha charged towards me, foaming at the mouth with rage-”
“I thought that only happens when you have rabies…” Colby interrupted.
“Rage and rabies, yes. Anyway, he charged at me, faster than I’ve ever seen a creature move in my life. I couldn’t help but think this was the end, and my life flashed before my eyes. I could see my human mourning over my body,” he closed his eyes and licked the tip of his nose. “But I was faster. I swung around, clenched my sword in my teeth, and cut the beast in twain. General Macaroni saved the day again!”
“But Grampy,” Cheddar tilted his head, “I thought fighting family was bad?”
Mac’s eyebrows shifted back and forth quickly, and nervously he said, “Well, uh, do as I say, not as I do. Goodnight, my grandpups!” And he scurried out of the room.
About the Creator
I’ve always loved writing, and I’m excited to get some work out there! I tend to write more on the dark and spooky side. So if you’re into it, check it out! My art insta is @drapersdapperdoodles, and cosplay is @drape_soda
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