Alphabet Soup

Xenophobia

Xenophobia

        Pearl was rudely awakened from her nap by a series of thunderous barks. She leapt into the air with a screech, fluffing out her fur until she looked like a giant snowball. The Rottweiler in the yard next door increased the volume of his incessant barking after this outburst. A pair of startled squirrels scampered up the oak tree Pearl had been dozing under, showering her with a cascade of acorns.

        Although it was already October, the air was thick with heat and humidity. Pearl had been lucky to find a comfortable spot in the shade to snooze in before the temperature had shot upwards around noon. Blissfully asleep, she had been completely unaware of the increasingly unbearable conditions around her. Pearl hissed in annoyance. It had taken her nearly ten whole minutes to prepare a cozy little nest for herself in the freshly fallen leaves. Now the scattered remnants of her work were being blown away by a chilly breeze.

        Giving herself a quick shake to get any stray leaves out of her dazzling white coat, Pearl began frantically licking herself. Her fur had exploded outward in all directions until Pearl looked like she was covered from head to tail in tiny icicles. Even worse, she had specks of dirt scattered all over her thanks to a less than gracious landing. It would take hours for her to be even remotely presentable again.

        Once her fur was reasonably flattened down again, Pearl marched towards the fence as elegantly as she could. She paused at its base for a moment before scrambling up the wooden barrier. Her claws scraped the fence as she struggled to make it up the last foot or so. All of those years of intense pampering had left her a bit flabby. Her stomach even swayed when she ran now. Pearl wasn’t exactly in the best of shape.

        After her daily dose of exercise, Pearl glared down at the Brutus, the Rottweiler who had so rudely woken her up. She leapt down from her vantage point as her noisy neighbor began to snarl at her. His pungent breath made her cringe: it smelled like a revolting mix between her litter box and toilet water. Since most of his kind socialized by sniffing each other’s hindquarters, this was no surprise to Pearl.

        Brutus bared his teeth at the unwelcome intruder as a threatening growl rumbled from his throat. Completely undaunted, Pearl sat down at the bottom of the fence. Her haunches began to bristle as she expressed her irritation. “Listen here, you uncultured mutt. I’ve just about had it with you and your pathetic yapping. Unless you want me to have you sent on a one way trip straight to the pound, I suggest you let me get my beauty sleep in peace.”

        By the end of her speech, Pearl’s tail was lashing through the air like a whip. Brutus was thoroughly unimpressed. “Sorry, princess, but I have every right to make as much noise as I’d like.” To prove his point, Brutus let loose a bark that sent a few nearby bluejays to fly off in search of a safer resting place. “Besides, you’d need to hibernate for months to get enough of your so called ‘beauty sleep’ to make you look like anything but a filthy stray straight from the alley.”

        “Look who’s talking you mangy, flea ridden tub of lard!” Dropping all pretense of refinement and grace, Pearl let out a furious hiss that sent spittle flying straight into Brutus’s face. She shot up the fence ,yowling at the top of her lungs as the enraged dog tore across the yard. He leapt up and snapped his jaws less that an inch from Pearl’s tail. Pearl let out a false cry of pain, summoning her owner from inside the house.

        The fuming red haired man dashed across his yard, scooping up Pearl and cradling her to his chest. She mewed plaintively and pretended to have hurt her paw during her escape. Pearl’s owner deposited her onto the ground and muttered soothing words into her ear before turning his attention to the enraged canine. Just a few years away from retirement, Alan was getting too old to tolerate such aggressive behavior. He bellowed at Brutus until the Rottweiler submissively slunk into his bright red doghouse.

        With one conflict temporarily put on hold, another one flared up. Alan’s African American neighbor, Malcolm, stormed outside to investigate the commotion. He scowled upon noticing his dog cowering in his dog house. “Mr. Davis, may I ask why you are treating my dog so poorly?  He’s been an angel all day.”

        Alan gave a disbelieving snort. “Are you deaf? That deranged monster of yours hurt my cat. You’re lucky I don’t report this. That violent creature deserves to be put down!” 

        Malcolm covered Brutus’s ears with his hands as his friend whined fearfully at the raised voices surrounding him. “Oh, and I’m sure little Ms. Perfect over there is completely blameless? I’ve seen her taunting Brutus, standing on the fence and parading around like she’s the queen of the world. I would love to give that arrogant cat a little kick myself. Maybe that would teach her to behave.”

        Arguments like this had been breaking out periodically ever since Malcolm had moved into the neighborhood last year. Brutus always ended up whimpering at all the yelling; Pearl invariably wound up with her ears pressed flat against her head to block out the heated exchanges. Despite being bitter enemies, both Pearl and Brutus could agree that humans could be pretty terrifying when they got mad.

        The two men refused to back down, each refusing to hear the other’s reasoning. They bellowed and swore at each other until their wives finally hollered for them to stop. With one last shared glare, Alan and Malcolm retreated into their houses to appease their wives. Pearl strutted after Alan; Brutus trotted after Malcolm. Neither looked back.