Then the texts started arriving at stranger times. They read, mostly, as follows:
1:01 AM, Thursday
Emily
Hey pooh, what's up?
Of course, I would reply that I was trying to sleep, and that both of us had to be at work in less than seven hours.
1:17 AM, Thursday
Just thinking of you...
As sweet as this is, that still did not negate the fact that we needed to do things in the morning. Adult things. And not the fun kind.
1:22 AM, Thursday
Wanna come over?
Okay, now this one definitely got my attention. I did want to go over there. Oh god, did I ever. But doing so would require several things:
1. I would have to bring my dog along.
2. Our dogs would need to get along with one another -- not a given, since her dog is barely out of puppyhood and mine is pretty old, and despises young, energetic dogs. He's kind of a canine codger.
3. Pooh? Did she call me Pooh? It was late. It took a while for it to sink in.
4. I would have to either bring a change of clothes or return to my house extra-early so I could get ready for work.
5. Her apartment is a 30 minute drive from my place.
1:34 AM, Thursday
Maybe this weekend then?
I agreed that I would come over at some point on Saturday, since I didn't have much else going on. And, don't get me wrong, I really did want to spend time with her.
It was Saturday morning before I knew it. At 10 AM, Emily called me.
"Guess what!" she said excitedly.
"What?"
"I adopted a puppy!" she said.
"Uhhhh..."
"She's so cute! What should I name her?"
"Was this a spur of the moment thing?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, "Roscoe and I went to Petco to buy some food, and we saw her and I just couldn't say no. She's so cute!"
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, playing the role of reason. "I mean, you work so much, and Roscoe is home by himself in his crate for so many hours each day..."
"Oh, they'll be fine," she said. "They love each other already!"
"Okay..."
A few hours later, I arrived at her apartment. I had stopped at a nursery to buy her a small gift -- just because. I prefer to give plants instead of flowers. Plants actually grow and thrive, unlike flowers, which, despite their beauty, soon wither and die. And a plant can have flowers, too. But not all the time. Just like any relationship will have its beautiful moments, its plainness, and sometimes the leaves may even start to dry out. Its beauty is in its ability to grow, and to become something wholly new. Additionally, a plant requires care, attention, and nurturing to keep its leaves green, much like a strong relationship requires a similar commitment from its stewards.
Also, plants are usually cheaper than flowers.
So I brought her a plant with purple blossoms -- something that would look great on her windowsill. I rang the doorbell and was instantly greeted by a cacophany of barks, howls, and yips from inside the apartment. She cracked open the door.
"Roscoe! Lily! No!" she said, trying unsuccessfully to calm the dogs. "We just went outside! It's just Sam! He's here to see mommy!"
She managed to subdue the dogs long enough to give me a kiss on the cheek and take the plant to her kitchen counter.
"That's Lily," she said, pointing to a precious brown and white Boston Terrier puppy. A rather large Boston Terrier puppy. A rather large Boston Terrier puppy who was now peeing all over the floor.
"Lily! No! Bad!" she said, swatting the pup with a roll of paper towels. Just as she did that, a snarling Roscoe lunged at Lily, nipping at her hindquarters, and causing her to seek refuge on top of an ottoman in front of the sofa, where she continued to pee.
"Roscoe, be nice to your sister," said Emily, as she handed me the roll of paper towels and a half-empty spray bottle of pet stain remover. "Can you spray this wherever she just peed and then soak it up with the paper towels? I need to take her outside. She isn't exactly housebroken."
"You don't say."
There I stood in the apartment, with Roscoe, who seconds earlier had been trying to dispatch his "sister." Roscoe growled at me as I sprayed the ottoman, the floor, and part of the sofa, and began cleaning up Lily's mess.
"Don't fuck with me, dog," I said as I rose to my feet to remind Roscoe how much larger I am than him. "I will not hesitate to lock you in the bathroom."
Roscoe growled. I stood my ground. We had met before. He knew me, and I knew him. He growled some more, and began showing his teeth. I put down the paper towels and spray bottle and grabbed Roscoe's leash (which had been attached to his collar presumably since Emily brought Lily home, since the two got along so well) and dragged him to the bathroom, barking all the way. As I returned to the mess, Emily and Lily came back inside.
"Where's Roscoe?" asked Emily.
"Bathroom," I said. "He was growling at me. And showing his teeth."
"Nuh-uh," she said. "He likes you!"
"Tell him that," I said. "I'm pretty sure I'm on his shit list."
"You're not doing it right," said Emily as she took the spray bottle and paper towels from me. "You have to really soak the spots. Don't just mist them." She proceeded to finish cleaning up the mess her dog had made on her floor and furniture, and then walked to the bathroom to release Roscoe.
"Are you going to be good now?" she said. "Are you going to be nice to your sister?" Emily grabbed Roscoe's leash and led him out of the bathroom. He immediately began barking and lunging at Lily with enough force to almost take Emily to the floor.
"Roscoe," said Emily in a soothing voice, "calm down -- she's not going anywhere. You need to be nice to her."
Roscoe did not listen, and proceeded to nearly duplicate the same incident as earlier. This time, I took Lily outside, where she did not pee, as the contents of her bladder had undoubtedly been released all over the apartment by now.
We went back inside to find Emily soaking up a wet spot on the carpet with a wad of paper towels. Roscoe had been locked in the second bedroom this time -- the second bedroom with the door that doesn't close too well.
"So, how are you today?" she asked.
"Oh, fine I guess," I said. "Just hanging out in my quiet house with my well-behaved dog. You know, the usual."
She gave me the look. You know the one.
Lily, who was not being attacked or cuddled by anyone at the moment, began yipping. High-pitched and frequent yips. Yips that could certainly be heard in the surrounding units.
"Shush Lily!" said Emily, causing Lily to yip louder. Roscoe began barking from the other bedroom, followed by a sound that was undoubtedly him pushing at the door.
"Emily," I said, "Lily is adorable, but--"
"I should take her back," said Emily, completing my thought. "Well, she's not going anywhere. They just need to get used to each other."
"It's your apartment," I said. "I'm just worried about how you're going to handle two dogs. And, to be honest, I don't think your neighbors will appreciate the yipping."
"They haven't said anything," she said.
"Em," I said, "it's only been a few hours."
"Right," she said, "it's only been a few hours. Give them time to get to know each other." Emily began picking up the soaked paper towels and headed toward the kitchen.
"Lily," she said, "come here, sweetie! You must be hungry! And thirsty!"
She placed a bowl of water on the floor and began reloading the super soaker otherwise known as Lily's bladder. Shen then measured out a small scoop of puppy food -- the fancy, expensive kind -- poured it in a bowl, and placed it on the floor. Lily attacked it voraciously.
THUD
Roscoe came barrelling around the corner from the spare bedroom and into the kitchen, snarling and barking at Lily the entire way. He lunged at her hindquarters. This time, he made contact.
YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP
Lily jumped onto the sofa and proceeded to pee everywhere, paying special attention to the areas that had just been cleaned. Additionally, her leg had begun to bleed, adding a new stain to the sofa. In a matter of seconds, Roscoe had inhaled the fancy, expensive puppy food and was now licking the bowl clean.
Emily took Roscoe to her bedroom, closed the door, and left him there for the remainder of my visit. She then tended to Lily's leg, which, fortunately, wasn't as bad as it originally appeared.
"I don't think they're going to kiss and make up," I said.
"They just need time," said Emily, as she turned on the TV.
We both rubbed Lily's belly as she sprawled across our laps. Soon, she grew tired of this and jumped over to the ottoman, where she barked her high-pitched puppy bark on account of our lack of constant attention.
In the bedroom, Roscoe growled.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment