♫With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound♫
♫He pulls the spitting high tension wires down♫
♫Helpless people on a subway train♫
♫Scream bug-eyed as he looks in on them♫
♫He picks up a bus and he throws it back down♫
♫As he wades through the buildings toward the center of town♫

Cheer it with me:  We can't wait for Chapter 8!

Wait no longer, here it is...

Chapter 8

            “Another day in paradise,” sighed Miss Matches as she headed out of the network offices into the blustery Chicago morning.  She sniffed the air and sighed again.  She missed the clean desert air of her hometown, missed being a local celebrity.  Here she was just another reporter.  She had come to the big city with the hopes of landing a big network anchor position.  Back in Reno, she had worked her way up through the ranks but knew she was meant for something more.  She would settle for no less than the best:  Animal Planet.  But for now, she was starting back on the bottom rungs and slowly climbing her way up.  What she needed more than anything was a big story.  Something with national exposure to get her noticed by the AP.  Unfortunately, all she had at the moment was the mysterious disappearance of a dogcatcher and his assistant in Palatine.  Hardly the big story she needed.
            She moseyed up and down the streets of downtown as if her big story was waiting for her around one of the corners.  She was disappointed in her own pessimism.  It certainly wasn’t a bad attitude that had gotten her this far.  She shook herself, adjusted her collar, and tried to look like a dog on a mission.  There was news, and she would find it.
           As she turned the next corner, a white limousine caught her eye.  She watched as it pulled up to the Ritz.  She caught her breath and grabbed her tape recorder as the door opened.
            “Princess Morgan!  Princess Morgan!  Miss Matches, WGN.  What brings you to town?”  She shouted over the traffic noise.
            Morgan Anna Maria stepped daintily out of the limousine and glanced at Miss Matches.  “What did you say your name was, dahling?  That collar is simply fahbulous!  It so suits your fur.”
            Miss Matches tried hard not to blush at the compliments of the princess.  “My name is Miss Matches, and I’m a reporter with WGN.  Could you tell me why you’re in Chicago?”
            “Well, Matches, dear, my flight was directed out of D.C. and I had to land here.  I’m meeting Lyle the Congressdog for an important policy discussion later this evening.”
            “L-l-l-lyle?  Lyle the super handsome Whigle?”
            “Oh, so you know him then?”
            “I used to,” replied Miss Matches.  Memories of motorcycle rides and trips to Dairy Queen flooded her mind, unbidden.  Everyone had said they were a perfect couple, but somehow they had just drifted apart.  She was surprised to feel her heart skip at the mention of his name.  She roused from her reverie to find Princess Morgan smiling at her knowingly. 
            “He’s quite a handsome dog, Lyle.  He’d be a good catch for any girl,” she said.
            “If only he could be caught,” mused Matches.  “Princess, could I trouble you for a few minutes to discuss the policies you and Lyle are covering?  I’d really appreciate it.”
            “No problem, dahling,” replied Morgan.  “Lyle isn’t expecting me until dinner.  Let’s head up to my suite and we can chat while I unpack.”
            An hour later, an exuberant Miss Matches was racing back to the network to put together a story.  It wasn’t the Big Story, but it was news, and it was all hers.  She’d be lead story at 5.        

I got another new intern yesterday.  I think Little Bit hired her to be Assistant Campaign Manager.  I thought this would be a good idea, since the election is so soon.

Her name is Oreo.  As far as I can tell she has no cream filling.  Some Oreo she has turned out to be.  If she can help me win the election, I'll let it slide.

Something very exciting is about to happen.  OOOOOH!  It's Chapter 9!

Chapter 9

            Palatine was miles behind him in a matter of a few strides.  The stray had grown so large that he covered ground quickly.  He paused only occasionally, emptying the contents of cars into his waiting maw like Tic-Tacs.  His hunger was insatiable.  He picked up his pace, following his nose to the city.  He felt no fatigue, no remorse, only hunger. 
            Soon he was at the outskirts of Chicago.  He breathed deeply, savoring the smells of the city.  He toppled an apartment building with the excited wagging of his tail, which only became more vigorous as he snatched up its terrified occupants.  Still the hunger persisted.  He was forced to make his way more slowly now through the narrow streets.  He passed a storefront with scores of televisions bearing the face of a beautiful yellow Lab.  He paused to watch her a moment, mesmerized by her big brown eyes.   He cocked his head low to hear her voice.
            “This is Miss Matches with tonight’s top story.  Princess Morgan Anna Maria of Appalachia arrived in Chicago unexpectedly today.  She is scheduled to meet with Lyle the Congressdog this evening to discuss trade relations with Appalachia and Lyle’s groundbreaking chicken platform.  I spoke with the princess this afternoon…”  The stray was no longer paying attention to the report.  The news station had flashed up pictures of the princess and the congressdog.  For a moment the stray could not believe his eyes.  Could this be possible?  Lyle the Congressdog, clearly a dog of privilege and power, was his own spitting image.  It could only be his long lost brother.  How could it be that his brother was living in the lap of luxury while he scavenged for scraps with barely enough kibble to keep himself alive?  He lifted his head and roared in anguish.  His hunger was suddenly forgotten, and all he knew was rage.

♫Oh no, they say he's got to go!♫
♫Bark Bark Dogzilla!♫
♫Oh, no, there goes Chi-ca-go!♫
♫Bark Bark Dogzilla!♫