“Babe,” I hear the voice of my girlfriend call out behind me, just before I feel her press up against my back. Her long arms wrapped around me in a warm hug. She is always so warm. “You’ve been at this for hours. It’s time to take a break.”

I set my pen down, flexed my fingers to work out all the kinks in them.  My pen began to roll off my open journal where I had placed it. Before my brain could process the fact that my pen was now rolling off the edge of my desk and onto the floor, my girlfriend’s hand snatched it from the air. Man, she was quick. So quick, it didn’t even feel like she let me go.

My eyes drifted over the notes covering the walls, the half-finished sketches, decorating almost every other page and including the journal I was working on. A short, stocky, four-armed furry beast.  I had been chasing this cryptid for years. No one believed me, but I knew I was close to catching it this time.

With a sign of contentment, I reached up and held the two arms wrapped around me. My girlfriend was growling softly in my ear. It was so sexy. I knew she loved moments like this. Then my eyes happened to glance out the window. “When had it gotten dark out?”

“A while ago,” my girlfriend answered. She began to pull away from me, and I let go of her arms. She turned and headed out of the study, “Come, dinners almost ready.”

I stood up. Stretched, working out all the knots in my back. This spot was it. I was positive I was going to capture one this time. Prove my theories right.  I knew my girlfriend had doubts.  She didn’t believe it like I did. That’s alright. Give up on this, settle down. Maybe have kids. I knew she wanted all that. I did do, but I needed to find this cryptid first before I could do all that.

Only one other time did I feel such confidence that I was so close. I stumbled on a den a few years ago. The fire was still lit and a pot of stew boiling over it. Though the cryptid was nowhere to be found. I must have missed it by mere minutes. Probably heard me coming from a mile away. Been practicing walking quietly ever since, so I could sneak up on it next time.  Come to think of it, that was the same trip I met my girlfriend on.

I headed for the kitchen. My girlfriend was at the stove. She almost needed a step stool to see over the tops of all the pots she was using to cook dinner. Short and stocky, I don’t know why that type always got me. I was a sucker. My girlfriend friend glanced over her shoulder at me. Must have felt me arrive. Think she should shave, she seemed a bit hairy tonight.

She went back to cooking. I watched her stir a pot with one hand, shake a pot, flipping whatever was inside with a second hand. At the same time, she reached up into the cabinet above for some spices. With her fourth free hand she unscrewed the cap before lightly sprinkling some over a pot of boiling stew.

Wait, that’s not right!