Category: Quest of the Qurad

Hunta was bored,  sis­ter Cat had deliv­ered two adorable white cot­ton­balls in the fam­i­ly wad­ing pool and ALL the spot­light was on Cat in the big room, leav­ing the crew in the sun­room.

Hunta loved her sis­ter so much but she did­n’t love being shut out while Cat was the cen­tre of atten­tion else­where, It was the qurad’s job to guard Cat not the house­hu­mans.

Always Cat Cat Cat, Hunta was a bit sad now that she could­n’t have any­more cot­ton­balls since she had that “desex” word thing hap­pen. She was at a loss to under­stand De-Sex, she was a girl dog, she knew she was a girl dog and always will be a girl dog but since what ever the masked­mon­key­men had done to dur­ing the “de-sex” time  and all that hor­rif­ic her in the pain time after, she  could­n’t have any more cot­ton­balls now and to tell the truth, even though she adored and was so proud of the cot­ton­balls she had cre­at­ed, she did­n’t want to cre­ate any more cot­ton­balls now, they seem like such an ener­gy drain­ing drag. When she real­ly thought about it there was so much she did­n’t want to do now that she had loved before the de-sex pain.

Hunta sighed loud­ly, as her body rose and fell in time with her sigh, there was an echo­ing sigh around the room by three oth­er fur bun­dles all snug and bored and off in their own fan­ta­sy­land.

Ball­sy was in the cor­ner hog­ging the prime posi­tion, watch­ing both the door and the hall­way where the house humans were. Ball­sy was so named because the House­Hu­man Al, had said at the time, that with all Ball­sy’s scruffy shag­gy weird patchy fur he looked like a sack of balls.

Old Ball­sy is just a big tall sil­ly white scruffy­dog with no much intel­li­gence, at all, he still chas­es his tail think­ing it is a snaky steak to woof down.

Hunta rolled her eyes while she thought about her boofy broth­er, typ­i­cal male Ball­sy thinks of three things, females, food and footrubs, with no com­mon sense. Damn, you know he is so mixed up that he has one blue eye and two brown, Hunta grinned as she thought of him lov­ing­ly, a soft glow of love sur­round­ed Hunta as she tuned her har­mo­ny with fur­fam.

Behind Ball­sy, quiv­er­ing in some dream­land of chas­ing rab­bits, was Mosey along Mo, the beta of the fol­low the leader Game they all play. Ball­sy is senior and big­ger than Mo, more bois­ter­ous and get up and go. Although we wont say he is smarter, he does have more Alpha Genes than Mosey’on’­Mo, so Ball­sy is boss cock­a­toody­doo­do.

Sud­den­ly there was a knock at the door star­tling the four fur bun­dles into action as they trans­mut­ed love into 4 fur­ry bark­ing door­bells as they barked “vis­i­tor”.

Ball­sy did­n’t think the house­hu­man’s noticed the Qurad’s call to the house­hu­mans  so he got a wee bit too loud for Hunta’s ears as he barked out “V I S I T O R S’ OVER AND OVER echoed by Mo, Blair and myself Hunta, after all this lit­tle dit­ty is all about me, on back­up sym­pho­ny, I must admit my voice is beau­ti­ful­ly musi­cal.

Soon the man of the house answered by thank­ing Ball­sy. He is so nice to thank Ball­sy by telling him to shut up. The ALman then invit­ed the house­guest in to pay respects to Mis­tress Cat and her tiny cot­ton­balls.

We all assumed our posi­tions, 4 curled up fur­rballs, just lay­ing there think­ing about god knows what. Ball­sy sighed, fol­lowed by Mo. Blair lift one eye to look at me and then she sighed too and closed her eyes.

I sighed and con­tem­plat­ed the new mush­room wall the man house­hu­man was paint­ing. I love the house­hu­mans so much, even more than my sis­ters and broth­ers, espe­cial­ly when mo farts. When Mo farts even the wood ants pack their bags and march out on strike, all in a row. GROSS ‑Mo, not the ants they are so cute but I always get them up my nose.

I love chas­ing them here and there watch­ing their busy lit­tle bod­ies all off doing a job, it must be a very impor­tant job because they are very prescise and reg­i­ment­ed about their tasks.

They don’t like it when my big sniffy nose chas­es them around in the grass, they try and hide behind peb­bles and twigs but my sniffy nose finds them every time. Some of them run around in cir­cles and some of those real­ly fat one get so cheeky as to try and nib­ble my nose. When I hunt those ras­cals down, the lit­tle sol­diers scat­ter and run away again as fast as their lit­tle six legs can car­ry them. zip zip away.

I think that is why the beau­ti­ful lady of the house, my mis­tress Nina Noo called me HUNTA, cos I hunt ants all day with my nose in the grass. Who knows, I like to think that is why she called me such a proud name that goes back to my hero dog god, Ori­on the Hunter.

Ori­on was our Alpha DOGGOD, when Ori­on knew some­thing we all did and we knew some­thing Ori­on did and all the oth­er crit­ters.  Humans took him away from us because he knew too much and they want­ed to con­trol us. we just want­ed love like we give every­one. I guess every­one is not like Ori­on and us but a lit­tle part of him still lives inside us all.

 

 

I will be writ­ing more and adding to Mayet’s mythos of the Qurad and oth­er adven­tures of beau­ti­ful fun fanasy that is real­i­ty.

How ever at the moment Hunta is in Jail with a death notice as a rit­u­al blood sac­ri­fice of evil by old sim­ple simon pie­man from yes­ter­days era.

as you all know with me, or don’t but you soon will if you ride along this fan­tas­tic sto­ry to bring a shiny warm heart­beam to your soul.

Fear is sub­jec­tive, what you fear, I have no fear of.