Sunday Strip: Happy XY Day!

Terror Alert! Space bears invade our moon base.

Platos allegory of the cave, just in case you are confused.

𝐈 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐠

Yeah. That happened.

Last week, I was walking back from the store and saw one of those “Lost Cat” flyers taped to a pole. It had a blurry photo and dramatic phrases like “please help us find Mr. Whiskers” which for some reason made me laugh more than it should have. Maybe it was the Comic Sans. Maybe it was the fact that the cat looked like it hated everyone, including the person who made the flyer. Either way, I got the dumb idea to make one myself. But with a fake dog.

So I went home, opened up Word and made the most ridiculous flyer I could think of. I said the dog’s name was “Chunky.” I described him as “half Pomeranian, half mystery”. I used a random Google image of a scruffy little mutt with giant eyes and his tongue hanging out like he’d just seen something unseeable.

I printed out six copies and taped them around my block. It was just supposed to be funny. I never expected anything to come of it.

Until yesterday evening.

I was making dinner when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, and this guy, probably in his 30s, pretty normal-looking, was standing there holding a leash. On the end of it was a dog.

Not just any dog.

Chunky.

The exact same scruffy, bug-eyed, tongue-out menace from the flyer.

The guy smiled and said: “I think this is your dog. I found him wandering near the park.”

I froze. My brain just… stalled. I had no idea what to say. So I said the dumbest possible thing, which was, “Chunky?!”

He nodded like that confirmed it. “Yeah! He came right up to me. I recognized him from the flyer by the laundromat.”

Now, here’s the part where a sane person would explain the situation. Tell the truth. Say: “Actually, this was a joke and that’s not my dog.”

Instead, I said “Oh my God, thank you so much.” And took the leash.

Now I have a dog.

Or something that resembles a dog. Chunky is… not right. He growled at my toaster. He barked at the fridge for 20 straight minutes and then peed on my welcome mat. He sleeps on his back with all four legs stiff like he’s trying to summon something.

I took him to the vet today, mostly to see if he had a chip. No chip. The vet looked at him for a solid ten seconds and then said “Well. That’s a dog, alright.” No follow-up. Just that.

So now I’m stuck in this weird reality where I made up a dog, and the universe handed him to me like, “Okay, let’s see what you do with this.”

Chunky is currently asleep under my bed. I can hear him snoring from here. I don’t know where he came from. I don’t know who he used to belong to. But I guess he’s mine now.

This whole situation feels like I made a meme and the meme came to life and now lives in my apartment.

This is why I shouldn’t be left alone with a printer.

(From Charmed tale stories on Facebook)

Happy Father’s Day – to those XY who qualify!