“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.” – Ernest Hemingway

Little piece I’m toying with, would be a modern take on the Norse mythology revolving around Fenrir, the son of Loki.

If you looked at it in the light, it looked like a normal, black puppy. Its ears pointed in little triangles above bright yellow eyes, golden like sunlight on a summer’s day. Its fluffy tail curved above its back and wagged delightedly when anyone came close.

It carefully skipped along the sidewalk, chasing the girl’s heels in amorous delight. It would have followed her even without the thin red leash dragging along the ground between them. Its tiny, sharp claws clicked along the cement as it occasionally nipped the hem of the little girl’s skirt.

“Not now, Fen,” chided the small child.

The puppy’s ears flattened and it lowered its head between its paws with round, apologetic eyes.

The child knelt down next to the puppy, running her hand over the silver guard hairs along its back. “We’ve got to go to the store for Mama. Come on.” Her thin blonde hair fell in her face while she crouched next to her dog. She tucked the fine gold threads behind her ear before standing up resolutely.

The pair ambled down the sidewalk to the collection of stores shoved close together like cars on a used lot, slowly rusting away and nearly on top of their neighbors. The girl stood on tiptoe to look in the bakery window. The creamy display of cupcakes looked like sugary white clouds begging to be either eaten or blown away as tiny soap bubbles. The child hooked the end of the leash around the red fire hydrant outside the door way. “Stay,” commanded the small voice.

The little dog sat back on his haunches. He whimpered as his tiny master walked through the store entrance. The little girl could barely see over the counter but reached up with determination to set down her wad of dollars and change. “Mama wants a loaf of French bread,” she directed.

The red-faced baker leaned across the counter to count the money. “Good morning little Mimi. Are you helping prepare dinner tonight?” he asked her with interest.

A bright grin spread over the little girl’s face. She nodded with glee. “Yes, we are having roast beef!”

The gentle man smiled at her enthusiasm and turned to the back of the store. He came out with a thick loaf of bread wrapped in a white cloth. He slid it across the counter to her. “Give your mother my best,” he added.

Mimi pulled the warm bread against her chest and smelled its fresh aroma. She hugged it close to her before trotting back out the door. She lifted Fen’s leash. The puppy sniffed expectantly at the warm bundle in Mimi’s arms. “No! Bad puppy!” she scolded him. He immediately dropped back and tagged along behind her.

With her mission accomplished, Mimi held her head high, walking with a quick pace and occasionally talking to the puppy trailing at her heels. In fact, she was so busy having a one-sided conversation with the dog that she never noticed the man step into her path.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out this close to dark?”

The voice froze Mimi in her tracks. She glanced up at the talk man, outfitted in a black leather jacket and muddy jeans. Mimi stepped back.

“What’s that you’ve got?” he asked, motioning towards her prized French loaf.

Mimi glared at him and hugged the bread closer.

“Let’s see it,” continued the man. He reached out a hand and grabbed her arm, trying to pry her grip lose. The puppy stepped forward. All the fur along the ridge of his spine rose up. He curled back his black lips to reveal a row of white teeth like tiny glacier jutting out at sharp angles. A growl much deeper than the tiny ribcage should have allowed emanated through his fangs.

The man looked down at the small animal and laughed. He stood up straight, still holding the arm of little Mimi. As he did so, his figure blocked out the sun, casting a long dark shadow across Fen.

As the darkness spread across the sidewalk, it concealed the body of the black dog. Upon contact with the shadow, a sudden shift of colors started to take place on the fur of the animal. A blaze of red, followed by a gently swirling blue made its way across the coat of the puppy as though he were reflecting the aurora borealis. It looked as though a prism had suddenly shone down on his silver guard hairs; each primary color floated and merged in a Technicolor concert.

The man stopped and stared at the strange animal. He watched the long ivory teeth, covered in glistening saliva, snap at his knee. He released his hold on the girl. The puppy leaned back his head and launched into the long, low call of a wolf on the hunt, the bone-chilling calling card for death. The man turned, without another thought and lurched into a gallop, taking him faraway from Goldilocks and her tiny wolf.