part 2

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed!

Gertrude blinked once, then twice, pressing her face even closer to my dark, fur-covered muzzle. 😮

The caterpillar was currently executing what felt like an eight-legged salsa dance across my sensitive left nostril.

My brain was firing every single red-alert reflex signal in existence.

My body desperately wanted to sneeze with the force of a hurricane.

If I sneezed right now, my survival instinct warned me, I would launch this terrified judge across the flowerbed and spend the rest of my natural life in a high-security facility.

So I did the only thing a dignified, master-level stealth gorilla could do in that moment of absolute existential peril.

I flared my nostrils with maximum control, inhaled through my teeth, and slowly swallowed the itch.

Gertrude froze, her clipboard trembling slightly in her manicured hand.

“Did… did that statue just twitch?” she whispered, her voice cracking with suspense.

The entire garden club went completely silent.

Twenty-five heads turned in unison to stare directly at me.

Mrs. Gable laughed nervously, waving her hand with dismissive confidence. “Oh, don’t be silly, Gertrude! It’s made of high-density weather-proof polymer resin! It’s impossible for it to move!”

“I am telling you, Martha, I saw its nostril move!” Gertrude insisted, taking a dramatic step forward. “I have a keen eye for detail, and I know a twitching nostril when I see one!”

She reached out her hand, extending a single, long, red-painted fingernail directly toward my chest. 💅

She was going to poke me.

She was going to press her sharp fingernail right into my chest muscles to test the firmness of the supposed “polymer resin.”

If she poked me, she would feel soft, warm, living tissue instead of cold, rigid fiber-reinforced plastic.

The tension in the garden rose to a suffocating level.

Even the golden retriever stopped chewing his tennis ball and watched the standoff with wide, terrified eyes.

Gertrude’s hand crept closer.

Three inches.

Two inches.

One inch.

Just as her fingernail was about to make contact with my sternum, a sudden breeze rustled through the dense green canopy above us. 🍃

A massive, heavy seed pod detached from the overhead branch and fell straight down, landing with a loud thwack right on top of Gertrude’s expensive sun hat.

Gertrude shrieked loudly, jumping backward three feet and knocking right into a large pot of prized hydrangeas.

The entire crowd erupted into utter chaos.

Judges rushed forward to help her up, clipboards were dropped into the mud, and scoring papers flew into the air like frightened white birds taking flight.

In the middle of the frantic commotion, Mrs. Gable quickly patted my shoulder and whispered, “Good heavy resin! Stood firm through the whole storm!”

I remained completely frozen, but deep inside my chest, my heart was hammering like a bass drum at a heavy metal concert. 🥁

That night, after the garden club members had finally packed up their clipboards and left—awarding Mrs. Gable first place for “Most Dramatic Wildlife Integration”—the garden fell quiet once again.