Featuring:
 DracoSyndrome's character Boulder

Also starring:
 furrific1 as himselfHey there. Everyfur calls me Boulder. Why? Maybe because at one time, my biceps resembled boulders. They’re starting to regain that title again. I’ve been working out like mad to get myself back into the physical shape I was. You see a few months ago, my muscular mixed-canine body, especially my belly, actually looked like a flabby boulder.

Let me take you back to over a year ago. The day started like any other. It was off-season for my job as a male swimsuit model. I slept-in all the way until sunrise. I woke, showered, dressed, and ate a healthy breakfast. And talk about your healthy breakfasts. Working out as much as I did/do gave me an enormous appetite. I prepared myself about a half-loaf of whole wheat toast, 7 egg whites, 3 diced apples, 2 oranges, a tangerine, some grapes, and drowned it with a half-gallon of 2% milk. After eating, my belly rounded out some. My first instinct was to rub it. This pleased me to the point of my tail wagging. The pleasure became disgust when I realized that my little gut isn’t flattering in swimsuit ads. I had to do something about it.

I did what I do best and I took a morning 2-mile run. I returned home at about 10 to begin my regimen of rigorous weight training. First I stretched then I did 100 reps with 2 dumbbells that weighed 50lbs apiece as a warm up. Afterward, I put 100lbs on each side of my barbell and complete 50 reps of bench pressing and then I transitioned to deadlifting the now 300lb bar, after I add 50 more pounds to it. My bulging muscles ache from a workout well done. (We models have to stay in shape.)

My phone then rang. Its caller id displayed that my friend Tubby T calls. I answered, “Hey T. What’s new?”

“You know me. I’m always out for a buck somehow. One is never enough,” my chubby tiger pal told me.

“In more ways than one,” I replied as I chuckled.

He laughed too and I heard him pat his tummy. T then agreed, “Yup.” He then asked, “So how’s work for ya?”

“It’s the same every year,” I extensively explained, “By late-Summer, I’m out of work for a long time. In late-Winter when the new summer fashions are in development. By the start of Spring, I begin to model again for the late-Spring advertising of the new summertime fashions.”

“Wow. I got none of that,” T replied. He continued though, “So, I guess in the off season, you can eat whatever you want. Steak, perhaps?”

“Hell naw,” I barked at him, “I have to stay in shape year-round.”

“Dude, relax. It was just a joke,” T said to me.

I continued, “This is my livelihood you’re joking about. If I can’t work, then I can’t live the lifestyle I’m accustomed to.”

“Whoa, calm yourself,” T tells me with the mellowest tone I ever heard, “I would accuse you of roid rage, but I know you’d never do such a thing.”

I finally calmed myself and apologized, “Oh man, I’m sorry I snapped on you. I know you mean no harm.”

T just replied, “Look, I gotta go, but we should really catch up over dinner. In fact, I’m gonna be at the Furry Grill Steakhouse later tonight. You should join me. My Treat.”

“Why not? I’ve been working my tail off keeping in shape. One steak dinner won’t hurt,” I agreed.

“Alrighty then. Later Boulder,” T said as he ended the call.

At that point, it was about 12:30 and I was still drenched in sweat. I wanted lunch, but my doggy keen sense of smell told me that I better take another shower first. After the shower, I redressed in clean, non-stinky clothes and proceeded to make myself a salad for lunch. After I made quick work of eating the salad, I pondered what else I should do that day. As a hungry hound, the first thought to come to my mind was a steak. Then another thought rationalized it as a reward for working so hard to stay in shape. It was settled by me making a deal with myself to run to the Furry Grill Steakhouse (3 miles) then after I ate, I’d run back home to burn all of those calories.

In the meantime, I decided to work out a little more before making my dinner run. I went to my bedroom, where I did 125 crunches and 125 push-ups. I then went to my bedroom threshold, where I had set up a pull-up bar. Since 125 was the theme for the afternoon, I did 125 reps, forwards and backwards.

After another quick shower, I dressed myself in formal active wear that I modeled earlier in the season. I was ready. I laced up my high tops and jogged a bit to my apartment building’s elevator. I jogged in place as I waited for it to arrive. It was taking too long for it to arrive, so I decided to take the stairs. Unknown to me, my neighbor’s literal kids were playing in the stairwell. One of them forgot a toy on the steps and it tripped me, causing me to slip and crash onto the steps. I heard something break then. I continued to fall and hit each step. I landed hard on the landing between the third and second floor. My body’s momentum continued the fall down the second set of stairs to the second floor. Fortunately, I saw a rhino neighbor of mine. Unfortunately, he saw me too late to stop me from falling toward the first floor. He does come to help me at the landing between the floors, but by then I already knew the damage was done. I blacked out.

After then, the last thing I heard was my neighbor on his cell phone saying, “911, help me. My neighbor just fell down the stairs at my apartment building.”

I lost consciousness.

I woke up in the hospital. I don’t know how long I’ve been out. All I can see is a big furry belly reaching across me. I heard the plate get taken from my tray table. I then recognize that the belly is attached to Tubby T the Tiger himself.

“Huh?” I go.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he replied guiltily.

“Yes I am. Where am I?” I wondered.

In a more serious tone, T said, “I guess you don’t remember. You fell down some stairs. You’re in the hospital.”

“WHAT?” I asked horrified. I tried to sit in the bed. I couldn’t move my body. I said out of confusion, “Huh? What gives?”

“You’re in a full body cast,” T told me, “Your wounds will heal and you will regain full mobility.” He began to eat the food on my tray.

“So what are you doing here,” I asked him.

“Eating,” he answered, “You know, the hospital’s food isn’t half bad. You should try it, but you on that strict diet and besides, you can’t have solid foods now anyway.”

“Is that right? Well I can have that applesauce right?” I said.

“Well yeah, but …,”

“But what?” I barked angrily.

“Uh …” T went. He grabbed the applesauce and quickly eats it. He then answered, “What applesauce?”

I said sadly, “Oh well. I need to learn to accept disappointment now that my life is pretty much over.”

Tubby T stood and said, “Don’t talk like that. Your life is not over. Once you heal, and you will heal, you will continue your life where you left off.”

“Yeah whatever,” I said. I just laid there and close my eyes.

T stands in front of my bed and says, “You sure will or my name isn’t Trevor William Simpson the third.”

“What?” I asked.

He told me, “When you’re released, you’ll come stay with me and I’ll nurse you back to health. Then it will be up to you to recondition yourself, because I do no exercise.”

“Why would you do this?” I asked him, “Is it about money?”

“Yes,” he blatantly explained to me, “You’re hurt so you won’t be able to pay that high rent at your apartment and pay for in-home nursing and physical therapy and a personal trainer and …”

“Okay. I get it,” I impatiently told him, “Now I need to sleep.”

Still T continued, “And I have my own money. I’m doing this because you are my friend and you don’t take care of the ones you have, you’ll end up with none. Well anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow get some rest.”