[fancypost borderwidth=0pt; width: 420px; text-align:justify; font-size:8pt;]The eight-moon-old stood, yellowy-colored fur still dyed black. He drew back a bit of dirt, the sound of leaves beneath his paws crunching. Rudy's mouth broke into a grin, crouching down as he pictured a crowd, materializing in the surrounding trees. A cold drift blew through. This was it.
An imaginary gun fired, causing him to speed through the forest, the sound of blood in his ears clearly audible. Thump, thump, thump. Everything was silent, though, in his mind, there was cheering coming from all directions.
Rudy leaped over a log, inconveniently placed in the middle of his "racetrack." Landing back on his paws, the coal-colored feline continued. From the viewpoint of anyone watching this, he would appear completely mad.
To quote Markus Zusak: "he was the crazy one who painted himself black and defeated the world."
