Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover's Soul

BOOK TITLE: Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul

AUTHORS: Various

YEAR: 1998

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Animal Shorts

GRADE: B

This book was published in the late 90’s and over two decades later, it has come into my life to comfort me with cute and cuddly animal stories. We all need stories like these during the 2020’s. We need to hear about German Shepherds who not only detect bombs in a war zone, but also comfort the soldiers during times of stress. We crave stories about dogs who repay a doctor’s kindness by protecting him from angry hyenas. Even those who never considered owning a python for a pet will have their hearts melted at the story of one bringing love and joy to a child with muscular dystrophy. Animals of all kinds are welcome into this collection of stories as long as they warm hearts quicker than a bowl of chicken noodle soup. The book should get an A+ just for that alone.

But the reason it gets a B today is because some of these stories have not aged well, which is an unfortunate consequence of publishing media in the 1990’s. There’s a story that glorifies selling baby horses to the circus, which as we know now is not a healthy environment for any animal due to their abusive treatment. Okay, maybe information was limited back then. There’s another story that glorifies pet shops, which we now know where they get their animals from: mills. Again, maybe not a whole lot was known about pet shop practices back in the day. However, there’s one story told by Gilda Radner about her on and off again relationship with Gene Wilder. In response to Gene finally pulling the plug on their relationship, Gilda’s dog eats a bunch of rat poison and suddenly Gene is convinced to return to a marriage he never wanted. This is passed off as cutesy-wutesy, but if this happened in a Jamie McGuire or Anna Todd novel, people would rightfully be upset. The optics aren’t very good here, but it’s not enough for me to judge the book too harshly.

And then there are stories dedicated to saying goodbye to our beloved babies which are heartbreaking in their own way, but the optics are much better by comparison. This is the good kind of pain, where your faith in owning animals is restored despite the deaths. While the writing style of these stories overall could be described as beige prose, they are very effective in making the reader cry as painfully as the characters being presented. I came very close to doing that several times in this section of the book. It can’t all be rainbows and sunshine, even in a book with Chicken Soup in the title. Death is the price of love. It’s something all pet owners will have to come to grips with. These gentle stories will gladly help you along your journey through a difficult time. See? I told you I couldn’t judge the book too harshly.

One more thing I’d like to touch on is how these stories feel complete despite their brevity. Usually with nonfiction writing, anecdotal storytelling is the norm. But in these stories, you’ve got character development, a plot arc, a beginning, a middle, and an end. One example of this is a story about a bitter wheelchair user named Corey, who was permanently paralyzed after a brutal car accident, which left him without a baseball career. But he found new life again when he sought the comfort of animals. In that short space, he went from a whiny jerk to an understanding and empathetic person with a new lease on life. Corey’s story isn’t the only one that does this. There’s another about a grumpy father who becomes less grumpy at the presence of an old dog. This even encourages him to make new friends at church and fully realize his character arc. How cool is that?

There’s something for everybody in this collection of short stories, despite the glaring flaws. Maybe you’re reluctant about adopting a pet and need some convincing. I’m sure this book will do just that for you. Maybe you need to rest easy after an animal-related hardship. Guess what? This book is here for you. Don’t even worry about the Christian overtones if you’re not religious; it doesn’t come off as forceful or heavy-handed. By all means, cuddle up with your favorite creature and read until it’s over. I give this collection of sweetness a B grade. Not bad at all! In fact, you’ll love it to pieces!

Drunk as a Skunk

This would have been a perfect time for Sheriff Walt Magnus to begin again…if it wasn’t for the smell of alcohol radiating off of his body like nuclear energy. The burps exploding from his fanged mouth also included splashes of green spittle, a color that already looked horrifying on his scaly orcish flesh. The crotch of his blue jeans resembled a swimming pool, provided his bits and pieces were swimming in sewage. His red flannel shirt was glazed over with sweat, so much so that he had to air out his leather vest just to beat the desert heat. His snakeskin boots danced around on the sandy ground as he shimmied drunkenly from side to side. No doubt the Silver Star on his cowboy hat looked less and less believable with every near trip.

Passersby gazed upon their once beloved Sheriff with crinkle-faced disgust. Elven traders backed away as quickly as they could, probably hoping Walt’s drunken sweat didn’t get on their produce. Human families shielded their children, covering their ears with every passing burp. Even the shirtless, flabby-bellied, shit-breathed ogres held their nose in disgust as they waddled away from Walt. Despite his mind echoing with drunken harmonies, he could make out the various curses that his citizens said under their breath. Walt’s heart would have sunken if his emotions weren’t already numb. Instead, a vomit spill on the wooden steps of the Red Dragon Saloon would have to suffice. Now the citizens got the hell out of there in a big fucking hurry.

“I got this…I fucking got this shit…I can do this…just one measly arrest is all it takes…eh, who am I kidding?” With nobody around to listen to his monologue, Walt collapsed through the swinging doors of the saloon and face-planted on the floor, almost shattering his wide nose and a few fangs in the process. Almost. Drunken stupor be damned, he could still hear the squeaks of a rag cleaning off glass mugs. “Thank god you’re here, Murphy. You ain’t going to believe this, but…I need another drink…”

Walt grabbed the edge of a nearby piano and yanked himself to his feet, but not without dancing around some more. It suddenly dawned on him why the saloon was so quiet. Human corpses decorated the establishment, some bent over chairs, some sprawled out across the tables and the bar, all of them with blood pouring from their wounds like the tap itself. Walt could also smell elven blood, which was a daisy garden compared to the ogres lying about. Once his vision cleared up, he saw no sign of Murphy the Bartender behind the counter.

The one wiping the glass mugs (and shattering a few of them with her thick fingers) was a rotund anthropomorphic rhino dressed in a green leather apron. She gazed into Walt’s watery eyes and pointed her blood-soaked horn at him. “I ain’t Murphy, asshole. He couldn’t make it to work today. He’s taking a permanent vacation in the bowels of hell with the rest of these fat-shaming losers. It’s like they ain’t never seen a big woman before. Even these god-forsaken ogres couldn’t keep their flabby gums shut.”

“Yeah, I know how that is…” Walt burped before staggering and dragging his feet towards the bar, almost falling off of his stool as he parked his ass down. He could have sworn the deer heads on the wall were glaring judgmentally at him as well. Even the corpses looked like they wanted to drag Walt to hell with them, provided the rhino woman was right about their ultimate fates. “Can I at least have a beer?”

The rhino woman laid her palms across the bar after tossing the glass mug aside. “You sure about that, honey? Do you really need another bottle right now? Shouldn’t you be out cuffing people or some shit?”

Walt dropped his forehead onto the bar. “Yeah, like anyone gives a shit anymore. It’s always do this, do that, all without an ounce of thanks. You have any idea how many punks I’ve put in the pokey?” He lifted his head and tried to use his bladed fingers to count, but immediately lost track and chuckled. “I’m all burned out and nobody gives a rat’s ass. They whine and complain to me all day and now they’re fucking surprised that I’m piss drunk.”

“I certainly hope you’re not trying to pull a fast one on me, Sheriff. I might have to gore your ass too if you pull that negotiator 101 shit right now. Yeah, you’re one ugly motherfucker alright, but you’ve got that little narrow ass that the voters like. Me? I couldn’t sell a glass of water to a guy dying of thirst. They see my big ass and my big nose and automatically want to deduct a hundred IQ points. Ain’t nobody voting for me anytime soon.”

Walt burped again, spilling bile down his already messed up shirt and vest.

“Ain’t nobody voting for you either if you keep that shit up. Seriously, go take a bath or something. There are horse stalls across the street that smell better than you.”

Walt almost leaned back too far for his comfort. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe I don’t need a beer today. But…there’s no way in hell I’m going out there in that heat…not like this. You won’t mind if a sleep here for a few hours, would ya, miss?” He took the rhino’s hand and kissed it in a vain attempt to sweeten the deal.

She smiled. “I don’t see why not. Everyone else around here is taking a nap, I guess you could too. Maybe I’ll play something on the piano, like a lullaby or some shit. Or I could just stick my horn right through your fucking chest, either one would be fine.”

Walt lurched forward and a vial of amber liquid fell out of his sleeve. His eyes widened as his façade was exposed to the now growling rhino. She picked it up and shattered it between her fingers, confirming that it was indeed alcoholic perfume.

The Sheriff chuckled hoarsely. “Dina Octavia Lord…you’ve got this entire town scared shitless of you...Nobody’s got balls big enough to confront your big ass…But I will. Come with me, babe. You’re under arrest for mass murder!”

Dina roared a windstorm in Walt’s face, assaulting his nostrils with bad dentistry and knocking him on his back. “Oh, shit!” he said as he put his blown off hat back on and scrambled to his feet, bolting out of the saloon.

The thunderous sound of massive rhino legs charging behind him caused Walt to hold onto his hat and pick up speed. Everybody else scattered like cockroaches, screaming and crying while their arms flailed in the air. As Dina’s feet clomped and shook the ground, Walt’s heart thudded even louder and his mind cluster-fucked itself worse than if he actually was drunk. The footsteps pounded his eardrums like they were actual percussion instruments. “Just a few more steps…a few more!”

Once he could feel the tip of Dina’s horn piercing his ass crack, Walt dove through one of the horse stalls and covered up in the hay. The wooden walls exploded like dynamite once Dina crashed through them. Walt was certain he was going to be flattened like a pancake and crushed like peanut brittle. But then…horse whines belted through the stables and were accompanied by hooves smashing and kicking out of intense fear. Dina bellowed out of both anger and pain, her face and ribs covered in horseshoe marks, broken bones, and blood.

Walt covered up and cowered some more as the horses stormed out of their stalls, leaving a trail of shit and piss behind them, not to mention Dina’s thick blood. Speaking of Dina, she lied on the ground clutching her broken body and coughing up blood. Her horn even broke off to where it was a jagged mess rather than a clean blade.

Sheriff Magnus slowly stood up and pulled out his six shooter, aiming it at the wounded and battered Dina, who just suffered through a kung fu assault from a house full of frightened horses. “You see that, Miss Lord? That’s what happens when you try to use fear to control your enemies. When the people get scared, they do scary shit. In the case of the horses…well, we knew how that story ended. I know you don’t like being called fat and ugly. To be honest, nobody does. But if the whole town followed your example and went on a mass murdering spree…I might have an actual reason to be drunk as a skunk instead of doing my duty.”

Kneeling down beside Dina, he said, “Now listen, lady: I ain’t got cuffs big enough for them wrists of yours. No, that ain’t a fat joke, that’s god’s honest truth. I guess I’ll just have to hold your ass at gunpoint as I take you to jail.” He stood back up and motioned for her to stand up with his gun barrel.

Spitting out chunky blood and broken teeth, Dina said, “There’s no way in hell I’m going to jail before these jokers and clowns do. I don’t see you arresting the dickheads who signed their own death warrant a long fucking time ago. They didn’t have to kiss my ass. They just had to keep their damn mouths shut. Is it too much to ask? I SAID IS IT TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK?!” Despite aggravating her rib injuries, Dina found a way to reach Walt’s ankle. She got what she probably hoped for this whole time: suicide by cop. Walt shot her in the chest multiple times, putting an end to her reign of terror for good.

Despite having an obvious victory under his belt, Walt frowned at his handiwork. His body shook in anger as onlookers clapped for him. He couldn’t help but think there was a little bit of truth to what Dina said during her final moments. Walt spun around and confronted his admirers. “What are you fuckers cheering at?! This is your damn fault!” The clapping died down and faces sagged in somber reflection. “Hell, none of you would give me the time of day when you thought I was drunk. You were ready to vote for the other guy once you had enough of my jolly green ass. Shallow bastards!”

Walt ripped the Silver Star out of his cowboy hat and tossed it aside before marching away, his middle finger waving proudly in the air like a patriotic banner. These people were freaks too, but maybe Dina was a little too freaky even for them. Then again, so was Walt Magnus, which was why he stamped away from these ingrates in the first place.

The Legomancer

“When we find that bitch, she doesn’t get off the shock table,” Dr. Diana Gunn reminded her two orderlies. “Shit, I don’t care if I get the gas chamber; I’m killing that loony toon. We’re going to find her tonight. Not after breakfast, not after Wheel of Fortune, we’re going to find her NOW!”

“She always had a thing for Legos,” said RJ Maddox as he shined a flashlight throughout the parking lot of Toys R Us. The orderly towered over his boss by a shit load of inches, but his menacing scowl commanded fear more often than his brutish muscles.

“She likes to call herself the Legomancer, whatever the hell that is,” said Jimmy Lord as he filled his syringe with a viscous red fluid. Despite his hefty frame, he could easily keep up with his boss and his coworker. All of this walking and not one sign of huffing and puffing.

“Liz McKinnon better goddamn jolly well be in there or I’m having both of your nuts on a silver platter,” belted Dr. Gunn. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I just want to get her ass back to the hospital and sleep easy tonight. That bitch will be lucky if she sleeps anywhere but a fucking cemetery tonight.”

Diana pulled her taser gun out of her lab coat and flashed some electricity to illuminate the psychotic expression on her face. Her pulsating bloodshot eyes and botched lipstick job would have anybody kneeling on the floor begging for mercy. RJ cracked his knuckles on both hands, every pop sounding like a machinegun bursting during a time of war. Jimmy grinned devilishly as he squirted a small sample of his needle fluid in the air. It was kill or be killed for these mental hospital employees and they were bringing a scorched earth into that darkened Toys R Us.

“Well, how do you like that?” hissed Diana. “She picked the goddamn locks. She always was a crafty little shit. I’ll bet that’s how she got out of her restraints. Not to worry: we’re going to fuck her up so badly she doesn’t even make it to the hospital tonight. That bitch is DOA!”

The scorched earth attitude of the doctor and her orderlies cooled off into a nervous freeze when they marched into the store to see what it had become. “What the fuck?” asked Jimmy Lord as RJ shined the club-sized flashlight around the store. Empty Lego boxes piled high in every corner. Lego sets built as instructed, but with oddly colored bricks. Pink and blue dinosaurs, green and red pirate ships, mismatched minifigures, and orange birds all decorated this playful palace.

“Don’t piss your pants just yet, boys,” warned Diana as she flashed some more electricity. “We’ve dealt with loonies like this before. This shit ain’t new to us.” She contradicted her own statements with a prolonged, “Oh my god!” once she and her boys made it to the middle of the store. Glowing brightly with red and orange plastic tubes, a life size merry-go-round with Lego horses and medieval knights twirled in circles while playing creepy organ music in the background.

“Woo-hoo! Yeah! This is the life!” yapped Liz McKinnon as she rode around on her own creation while waving her hands in the air. She remained in the shadows of the carrousel and then caused her assailants to nearly piss themselves when one of the light tubes revealed her Lego minifigure body in life-size form. The brick legs, the tube arms, the claw-like hands, and the smiling yellow face with wavy brown hair: she had it all.

“Don’t just stand there, guys! Let’s get her!” snapped Diana. Her three person team bum rushed the carrousel like a family of rhinos in a quaking stampede. Liz giggled at them and rode away on her horse towards the back of the store. By the time Diana, RJ, and Jimmy leapt onto the carrousel, the Lego pieces came crashing down on top of them, leaving them buried in plastic rubble. The studs and corners nicked their human victims to where the triple threat looked like they were mauled by street cats.

While Dr. Gunn and Jimmy wallowed in their wounds, RJ Maddox burst out of the pile with his muscled arms in the air and an ursine roar. He kicked his way through the shattered pieces and started picking up Lego sets left and right to smash them into even more pieces. He lifted spaceships in the air and threw them to the ground as hard as he could while screaming, “This is fucking bullshit! I’m going to kill that little bitch!”

During the tall black orderly’s rampage, a pirate ship flew by and crashed against his watermelon skull, opening a gash on the side of his head. He growled in pain and held his wound while glaring at the source of the pain: Liz McKinnon and her ability to levitate Lego sets in the air with her glowing blue hands.

“You people said I was crazy,” lectured Liz while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Everyone told me that I was too old to play with Legos, that I had responsibilities, that I could never be a kid again. And now here they are sending a three-way sex circle at me in the form of you jack-offs!”

Dr. Diana Gunn shoved the Lego pieces off of herself and pulled Jimmy Lord to his feet before picking up her dropped taser gun and pointing it accusingly at Liz. “You think you’re the only one who misses her childhood?” Diana snapped. “That’s what life is all about, sweetheart! Everybody has to grow up at some point! Everybody has to venture out into the real world! It’s a part of the natural order! But you don’t want to be a normal member of society, so what do you do? You endanger your husband and children with your reckless behavior!”

“Look at you, Dr. Gunn,” mocked Liz. “Trying to debate with a so-called crazy person. Are you sure you’re not itching for a straightjacket yourself? Hell, maybe I can give you some of that shock treatment you gave me for, I don’t know, twenty fucking years!” She levitated one of her spaceships in the air and used its laser cannons to zap Diana’s taser, which sent an electrical storm of agony throughout her convulsing body before she crumpled to the floor.

While Jimmy tended to his boss’s wounds, RJ bolted towards Liz and the two of them gave chase throughout the store. Liz even did some back flips, summersaults, and made some “Hoo-hoo!” noises during her escape. RJ shrieked, “You better pray to god that I don’t catch up to you, you little hooker!” Liz kept up her tilt-a-whirl acrobatics and caused RJ’s blood to boil even further.

Their chase led the two of them through the various isles and into the back of the store, where Mr. Maddox stood in awe of the gigantic Lego castle that Liz crafted for herself. She blew him a kiss before storming past the gates and disappearing behind the shadows. This time RJ cracked his neck on both sides and stomped into the castle after her. He managed to tuck and roll out of the way of dragon statues breathing fire at him as well as knife traps trigged from the ceiling above.

“Is that all you got?!” RJ mocked with his hands spread out in a Jesus Christ pose. “This is what you left your family for?! I got you cornered, you little skank! It won’t be long before I punch the shit out of you! Hell, your husband and kids don’t even miss you anyways! I bet they’ll dance all over your grave once I put your ass six feet under!”

As RJ trekked through the hallways of the castle, he could hear little children crying their eyes out at his remarks. “No…no, this is ridiculous.” He kicked down one of the doors and found Liz sitting at a dinner table with two tiny Lego minifigures in her arms as well as a life-sized Lego man sitting across from her. RJ rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and indeed they were as real as the Christmas tree illuminating their features.

“How could you say those things about my family, RJ?” asked Liz with a sour frown. “They’ve been here the whole time. This is where I belong, not in an insane asylum. And guess what, Mr. Maddox? This family is only going to get bigger…and bigger…and bigger…and bigger…”

From underneath the table and underneath Liz’s belly, more Lego mini-figures emerged to repeat her “bigger and bigger” sentiments. These Lego babies grinned at RJ with razor-sharp teeth while some of them held plastic swords and guns. Even Mr. McKinnon had his own gigantic silver sword that he swung around in the air with the lightness of a feather.

“You people are fucked up! You hear me?! You’re all fucked up!” screamed RJ as he ran out of the castle with his arms flailing in the air like a lunatic. His childish screams turned to maniacal laughter while dragon statues, mini-figures, and Creator dinosaurs roared monstrously at him. The floor swirled underneath him while various light tubes flashed and nearly caused him to have a psychotic seizure.

When RJ spotted Jimmy giving chest compressions to Diana, the tall black orderly chuckled hysterically with his tongue hanging out to his chest while he yanked the hypodermic needle out of Jimmy’s belt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted. But it was too late. RJ jammed the needle into his jugular and injected himself full of psychotic drugs. The swirling floor constantly changed colors. The flashing lights exploded like fireworks. The dragons and dinosaurs laughed like serial killers as did the McKinnon family and their many “children”. RJ’s brain popped like popcorn as he crumpled to a relaxed heap on the floor, his tongue dissolving into a red pool of filth. He could finally close his eyes and forget that this all happened.

Hours passed since the time RJ closed his eyes. With the heaviness in his eyelids, the aching in his head, and the soreness in his ribcage, it felt like days, maybe even months went by. He couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped in a straightjacket. He couldn’t sit up because he was bound to a table with leather straps. He could turn his head slightly, but waited until his eyes adjusted to the florescent lights to see just where the hell he was. Strapped to the adjacent tables were a raving and drooling Jimmy Lord and a teeth-gnashing Diana Gunn.

“At least I can get some rest,” whispered RJ as he relaxed in his laying position.

“It’s five o’clock, Mr. Maddox. Time for your treatment!” squeaked a familiar voice.

RJ said, “Oh, no!” and screamed his head off when he saw Liz McKinnon decked out in hospital scrubs holding shock pads in either hands. And yes, she was still in Lego mini-figure form. No matter how hard RJ struggled and yelped, he couldn’t avoid the two lightning bolts surging through either side of his head, sending him into yet another relaxed state of mind. His world went black, but all he dreamed about was more Lego madness. More goddamn dragons. More goddamn fanged babies. More goddamn Liz McKinnon and her freaky family. “Just kill me already!” he drooled.