Annabeth Chase and the Lightning Thief

Chapter 17 - We meet a runaway poodle

If you've never be awaken by a cranky pink poodle, then count yourself lucky. I nearly had a heart attack, especially when it growled at me.

"What the Hades, Grover?" I exclaimed. "Where did you find that?"

The poodle growled even more fiercely at me. It was filthy and matted, looking a lot like I did when I ran away.

"I was having a walk," he said plaintively. "Was that wrong?"

"No . . ." I answered slowly, still watching the poodle warily. "But we can't look after that. We're on a quest, remember?"

The poodle didn't seem to like being called "that". It snarled at me and tried to lunge, but Grover caught it and held it back.

"No need for the bad language," he told it sternly. "This, Annabeth, is our only opportunity to get to Los Angeles. And it's not an "it". His name is Gladiola."

"Hi," I said. "How is he going to get us there? Are we going to all ride on his back or something?"

Gladiola growled something. Grover winced.

"What did he say?" I asked suspiciously.

"You don't want to know," Grover told me. "But there's a ransom on him. His family is offering $200 for his return. He ran away and doesn't want to go back, but he's willing to give himself up to help us." The poodle growled. "Well, me," Grover amended.

"Great," I said. "Now, excuse me while I cook breakfast."

I grabbed a packet of crackers and began eating them. I wish there was some cheese to go with them but they tasted alright without. Better than nothing at least.

Grover was talking to Gladiola in a quiet voice and I had a feeling that it was private, so I didn't try to eavesdrop. Instead, I stared at Percy, feeling like a creeper as I watched him sleep. He didn't seem to be having a good time of it either, making little whimpering noises and twitching as he drooled.

I felt sorry for him. I knew how bad demigod dreams were. Leaning over, I grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, startling him awake. He blinked in confusion, looking dazed and sleepy.

"Well, the zombie lives," I said sarcastically.

"How long was I asleep?" he mumbled.

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast," I answered, tossing him a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips. Probably not the healthiest breakfast, but whatever. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

Percy started when he saw the poodle. He looked as enthusiastic as I felt about seeing it.

The poodle yapped, probably saying more foul mouthed things about Percy and I. It was proven when Grover told it, "No, he's not."

Percy looked even more confused and bewildered.

"Are you . . . talking to that thing?"

I grinned as the poodle snarled.

"This thing," Grover corrected. "Is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

I was going to say, "duh, he is one," but then I remembered how sensitive Grover was about he's appearance and ancestry.

"Percy, meet Gladiola," he said. "Gladiola, Percy."

Percy was looking at me, as if wondering if he was going completely crazy. I wanted to prove him right, but decided that was just a bit too cruel, so I just shrugged.