2007-09-16: Muggles vs. Squirrel!

Starring:

Claire_icon.gif Sharon_icon.gif MrMuggles_icon.gif

Summary: Claire and Sharon meet when Mr. Muggles decides to go on a SQUIRREL MASSACRE! But then he stops for scritches.

Date It Happened: September 16th, 2007

Muggles Vs. Squirrel!


Central Park

There are days that Sharon is glad to not need sleep. And there are days where sleeping off the events would be nice, but it's a rather difficult thing when you don't naturally get tired. Last night was one of them, as she's recovering from a couple of burns on her left foresarm. It's nothing that's obviously hindering the woman as she jogs through the park, white iPod earpieces visible and playing some tunes. But it isn't a pleasant feeling. The woman is starting to slow down as she approaches a bench, however.

A walk though Central Park with a dog the size of a hatbox. This, in New York, is one of the most normal things that Claire can think of to do in the hours after school. Mr. Muggles, after all, needs a walk, and the daughter of Master Showman Sandra needs to get out. Currently sporting his fancy matching red nylon collar and matching spaghetti-thin red lead. Dressed in a pair of navy blue sweatpants, white sneakers, and a navy blue pullover with 'BEIJING BULLDOGS' emblazoned in gold on the left breast, the blonde happily blends in with the majority of the people here.
That is until Mr. Muggles, typically the paragon of Champion of the Toy Breeds, decides to take umbrance with a grey squirrel that has crossed its path. With an uncharacteristic start, the pomeranian jerks the leash out of Claire's hand and starts tearing across a patch of green after said squirrel. And with that lost leash, the teenager comes crashing back into reality from her place of pensive reverie and, after only a moment's pause, goes tearing after the would-be Squirrel Killer. "MR. MUGGLES! GET BACK HERE!" CRAP. She is gonna be in so much trouble if she loses that dog.

Sharon doesn't know a lot about these toy dogs, aside from what you see in television. And that they're yappy little things. However, the woman hears the girl yell out Mr. Muggles' name and looks up and back, aborting the trip to the bench. The woman sees that the two are heading in her general direction, and so the woman darts quickly towards Mister Muggles to try and intercept the little guy, who seems bent on taking out that poor, innocent squirrel. She knows enough that just going for the leash is a good way for these sorts of owners to freak out, since it will hurt the dog a bit.

Claire's still closing the distance at a frantic dash, a good twenty yards behind the dog, blonde ponytail whipping against her back. "Get him!" She, unlike her mother probably, is rather of the opinion that a little jerk on his leash can't be all that bad. It would at least teach him a lesson about racing off in New York.
SQUIRREL, SQUIRREL, SQUIRREL, STRANGER, pats? When the squirrel peels off at the last minute to avoid Sharon, that leaves the Pomeranian to careen into the stranger. Once there, however, the dog looks up at the trainer with his little tag a-waggin'. HI, PET ME..

Sharon takes the 'hit' from the little toy dog much like you'd take a small child crawling into your ankles headfirst: with an amused, though slightly concerned grin. The woman crouches down to pet the dog with one hand while calmly taking up his leash with her right hand. "Energetic little fellow, this Mister Muggles did you say?" Sharon says to the teenager.

"Yeah," Claire replies once she finally gets to Dog and Stranger, her small hand stretching out to take ownership of the leash once more. "Mr. Muggles, King of All He Surveys." Then her lips curl down into a frown, brow creasing as she looks down at the ball of fuzz that is the embodiment of all of her mother's dreams. …Or something to that effect. "Bad, Mr. Muggles. BAD." Lifting her eyes back up, there's another smile. "Thank you. You have no idea how much trouble you just got me out of." There's a relieved roll of her eyes to emphasize that fact.

Sharon straightens up and gives the leash on over to the girl. "Though apparently one of his subjects got away from his royal judgement. And it wasn't a problem. I take it your parents are big dog lovers? Or just dogsitting? I'll admit I don't know the breed name, but that's one of those types that people put in shows, isn't it?" Sharon asks. "I'm Sharon, by the way," she adds before reaching into her pocket for a small bottle of some sort of prescription cream.

"My mom. She really digs this little guy." Stooping down, the teenager collects the dog and tucks him under her arm. He's lost walking rights. The younger female regards the darker haired woman for a moment, and then decides the guess is purely coincidental and thus renews the brightness of her smile. "He's a Pomeranian. He doesn't really do the show thing, though." Not anymore. "I'm Claire. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, he seems a bit hyper for the show thing, at least if there's a squirrel around," the older woman replies. And it had just been a guess. Sharon doesn't know much about dogs, but she generally knows if a dog is the breed they do at shows or not. It's not an odd guess. "Good to meet you Claire," the trainer replies. "Though I'm glad he stopped instead of making us give chase. Don't know if I'd have been much help if he had. Arm is still a little tight," she explains. There's a small, flesh-colored bandage on her left arm. "He named after anything, if you don't mind me asking? Mister Muggles isn't a common name that you hear".

"I dunno." The dog is lifted, as if being inspected by the blonde who holds him now, before pacifying him with scritchies behind his fuzzy ears. "I guess she just really liked the Harry Potter books." It has nothing at all to do with giving a distinctive show name. No, sir. Not this dog. Claire tilts her head in order to indicate the bandage with a sympathetic wince creasing her face. "That looks like it hurts. What did you do?"

"Burned my arm. A building caught on fire yesterday and I happened to be a little close. Could have been a lot worse," Sharon says. No reason to mention the entire running into the building thing. She doesn't need to make herself sound crazy. "It's not as bad as it looks. I've banged myself up worse living in Colorado. Mountains are a good way to get yourself hurt when you're first learning how to navigate them," the woman tells Claire. "Should heal itself up soon enough".

Burning building. It's a good thing that Sharon doesn't mention running in because, yeah, that would totally creep Claire out, but not for the reason most would guess. For now, it's just a little fun-to-know fact. "I hear that cocoa butter really helps reduce scarring, too. …Colorado? You ski?"

"I know how to ski, though I preferred climbing the mountains to skiing down them. I always preferred to be up high when I was little, so I guess that's where it comes from. Grew up and went to college in Denver," Sharon tells Claire as she cups her hand to squeeze a little bit of the cream into it. The bandage is tilted upwards a little so the woman can apply the cream discreetly. Claire may or may not see the actual burn. "Cocoa doesn't actually have anything in it that prevents scars. Scars will just build up and break down at a cell level for a good year, but a tight bandage and cream can keep them from being too bad. Pressure will sort of mess with the collagen that scar tissue is made of. Sort of shoves them into straighter lines". The woman smiles a little bit. "And if it isn't obvious, one of my majors was Biology".

"And now I know," Claire replies with an amused curl of her lips and a laugh that bubbles forth. "I'll have to keep that in mind." Not that she'd personally ever need the information. "Well, I better get going. Otherwise Mom's gonna start wondering what happened to me and King Troublemaker here." There's another frown just for the dog in her arms. "Sorry to interrupt your jog, but thank you so much for helping out."

"No problem, I should get back to my run," Sharon says. "Good to meet you," Sharon says to Claire. And she'll take off down the path and out of sight on her run to who knows where. Probably more trouble, if the last few days are any indication.

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