The Not-So-Spuffy Zombie

Lily was practicing her Halloween costume when her golden retriever, Buster, trotted into her room. His tail thumped against the doorframe—thump, thump, thump—and his big brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Buster! Look!" Lily spun around in her gray and green zombie costume. "I'm a zombie!" She pretended to stumble, arms stretched forward, making her best zombie groan. "Uuuugh, brains!"

Buster didn't understand. He just thought they were playing. His whole body wiggled with excitement, and he let out a happy bark that echoed through the house.

That's when Lily's little brother, Max, peeked around the door frame. His eyes went wide. "A real zombie!" he shouted, pointing dramatically. "It's coming to get us!"

Max grabbed his toy sword and started running down the hallway. "Help! Help! The zombie is after us!"

"Max, wait! It's just me!" Lily called, but he was already gone.

Buster, thinking this was the best game ever, bounded after Max. His paws skidded on the hardwood floor as he turned the corner, his floppy ears flying.

"Buster, come back!" Lily laughed, shambling after them in her zombie costume. Her fake wounds made her look extra spooky, but inside she was giggling so hard she could barely walk.

She found Max in the backyard, hiding behind the big oak tree. Buster sat beside him, tail still wagging, looking very proud of himself for catching his brother.

"Gotcha!" Lily said, reaching out with zombie arms.

Max screamed—then started laughing. "Okay, okay, you win this time! But tomorrow, I'm going to be a superhero, and I'll definitely catch you!"

Buster barked in agreement, as if promising to help catch the zombie tomorrow too.

Lily sat down in the grass next to her brother and dog. The autumn leaves crunched beneath them. "You know," she said, pulling off her zombie mask, "even zombies just want to play."

Max thought about this. "Maybe next time we can be zombie friends instead of running away."

"Deal," Lily smiled, and Buster licked both their faces.

Sometimes, the scariest things aren't scary at all—they're just waiting for someone to understand them.