All brawn. No brains. All heart.
Meet Gourdie the pumpkin pug, Experiment 005 in LilTuki’s Howl-O-Ween Misfits: a gentle giant with extraordinary strength, delicate feelings, and a deeply unfortunate relationship with laboratory furniture.
A Monstrous Ambition. A Seasonal Distraction.
Dr. Franken-Fur was supposed to be thinking about unspeakable power.
He was thinking about a pumpkin spice latte.
This was an unfortunate lapse in concentration for someone currently assembling a hulking beast of a monster.
Across his workbench lay the plans for Experiment 005: immense strength, formidable claws, a body capable of breaking through solid doors. In the margin, beneath a calculation that might have changed the course of science, he had written:
Extra cinnamon. Whipped cream?
He would later insist that the pumpkin was selected for its “exceptional structural properties.”
His notes were less convincing.
Dense fibrous musculature. Extraordinary lifting capacity. Notes of nutmeg.
Nevertheless, as lightning flickered over Spires Claw Laboratory, the experiment rose from the table.
Before him stood a creature capable of lifting machinery, forcing open iron doors, and reducing obstacles to rubble.
“Unstoppable,” the doctor whispered.
Gourdie’s eyes widened.
“Is that good?”
The doctor paused.
It was not the first thing he had expected his unstoppable beast to say.
Meet Gourdie, Affectionately Known as Grumble
The doctor had intended to create a monster. Gourdie would prefer to be somebody’s little boy.
He wants affection. Reassurance. A comfortable lap.
His body, regrettably, requires a reinforced bench.
This pug–pumpkin hybrid has enormous paws, awkward limbs, and absolutely no understanding of how much room he occupies. Ask him to move a cabinet and he will lift it effortlessly.
Ask him to turn left, and you may lose a wall.
Not through malice. Gourdie is helping.
That is usually when the trouble starts.
Meanwhile, the laboratory smelled suspiciously of cinnamon.
“Why does it smell like a drink in here?” someone asked.
“THAT IS THE SCENT OF PROGRESS,” snapped the doctor, closing his notebook.
Misfit File 005: The Gentle Gourd
- Name: Gourdie
- Nickname: Grumble
- Breed / experiment: Pug–pumpkin hybrid
- Occupation: Misfit protector. Accidental demolition crew.
- Greatest achievement: Holding up the laboratory ceiling while everyone escaped.
- Complication: He was also why it needed holding up.
- Fatal flaw: Cannot bear to think he has disappointed anyone.
- Nervous reaction: Sneezes pumpkin seeds.
- Threat level: Low to friends. Catastrophic to furniture.
- Catchphrase: “I’m helping. Sorry.”
Please Don’t Shout. It Makes the Seeds Worse.
Gourdie can withstand an enormous amount of physical pressure.
Emotional pressure is another matter.
A stern look makes his shoulders droop. A disappointed sigh can ruin his afternoon. If Dr. Franken-Fur mutters, “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gourdie begins apologizing before checking whether he was involved.
Then his nose twitches.
“Sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean—ah… ah…”
Pumpkin seeds scatter across the floor.
He apologizes for those, too.
Unfortunately, apologizing makes him nervous.
The doctor has learned that “CALM DOWN!” is less an instruction than a request for another harvest.
The Misfits’ Gentle Giant
Gourdie is dramatic about small discomforts. A burr in his paw requires witnesses, reassurance, and considerable discussion.
But when one of his friends needs protection, he becomes wonderfully certain.
He steps forward. Plants those enormous paws. Puts himself between his friend and the danger.
“You can’t have that one. That one’s my friend.”
Gourdie may struggle with complicated instructions. He never struggles with that.
His strength is real. So is his loyalty.
Dr. Franken-Fur’s Final Assessment
“Strength: extraordinary. Coordination: unacceptable. Loyalty: absolute. Subject has apologized to the same cupboard eleven times. The cupboard is beyond saving. Subject is not.”
The doctor set out to build a creature of pure terror. Somewhere between the calculations and the craving, he created a loyal friend who wanted everyone safe, comfortable, and close enough for a cuddle.
He now owns a reinforced bench and a broom exclusively for pumpkin seeds.
He maintains that the resemblance to his favorite seasonal beverage is entirely coincidental.
“I was NOT thinking about pumpkin spice.”
Gourdie sneezed across the open notebook. A few seeds settled beside the words whipped cream.
The doctor shut it.
“…The cinnamon was medicinal.”
Meet the rest of the Howl-O-Ween Misfits and discover the other experiments making Dr. Franken-Fur the most exhausted dog owner in the history of mad science.
Does your dog still believe they’re lap-sized—regardless of what the furniture says?
One scientist. Too many monsters. Absolutely no obedience training.
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