Waving Not Drowning

Now you listen to me. You sit yourself down, take a deep breath and disengage, you hear me? That's right. This is not your circus, these are not your monkeys- sorry, not your clowns- I know how much you abhor animals in entertainment. Don't want to get you sidetracked here. Alright. Now. What can you do right here, right now, to make a difference? I'm serious, this is a very real question I'm asking you. Don't look at me that way Linda, do not give me that look. I know that look, it says I'm gonna pretend to listen when really you're ignoring me behind your eyes. I know you are. Yes Linda, you are. Linda sighs. She drops her chin and peers up through the bottom of those crazy long lashes that curl up for days. Such a gorgeous face. So hard to stay angry with her for long, this one. She's got Trudy wrapped around her little finger. Paw, actually. Her curly coated, apricot coloured, overpriced and overbred labra-schnoodle-cross paw. You'd think for...

Rise and shine! Bailey's tail thumps against the nightstand, a jackhammer wake up. The glass of water vibrates, threatening to topple over onto Carson's pillow. Again. He never learns. Either move the glass or get a bottle with a locking lid. Or close the door at night so at 6 am the dog doesn't inadvertently wake him up with a cold shower. Hungover. Slow moving. His eyes start to focus then bam, it hits him. A flashbomb blinding his vision. It's a new year. No idea what time he called it a night- somewhere between three bottles of Veuve and free flowing shots of Patron chased with salted pistachios and fried plantain. Friends with strange predilections. The remainders- cracked lips, salt-stained fingers and greasy cheeks. Depleted. Bailey paces, whining under his breath, drool leaking from his bear head. Carson swings his legs over the bed, heels hard on the cold floor, head in hands spinning, throbbing. Bailey's mastiff tongue shellacs his face, grooming his b...

He walks by her house every single day, sometimes twice if his neighbour needs him to walk her dog. He could take a different route but Carrie's house is situated exactly halfway between his house and the hipster dog park. Bongo gives him the perfect excuse to casually stroll and linger in front of her bay window while the pup noses around the hedge by the sidewalk where Larry surreptitiously drops some kibble. The snacks give him an extra two minutes, maybe more, where he can position himself in such a way that if Carrie is in the living room or the upstairs bedroom, even down the hall in the kitchen with the drapes open, he can take her in. Revel in her wonder. She's incredible. His heart dances in his chest, speeding up so fast that he's sure he's having an attack. A few deep breaths, mindful counting to 10, and he's back in control. Until she tilts her head and her bangs brush across her forehead, obscuring her face from his view. He panics, jockeying for a clea...

Barney's an old dog. A hound mix of some sort, Peggy doesn't know what kind exactly, but he's been the one unconditional male in her life for the last 5 years. No contest there. At first Peggy thought adopting a dog would be a sure fire way to meet men. Especially an older, more chilled out senior dog, reeking with character and approachability. Visions of dog park romances, random encounters with cute, eligible, dog loving men out strolling with their own socially well adjusted and just as attractive dogs filled her with excitement. The possibilities! The reality fell far below her expectations. Late night emergency runs after Barney ate a pound of butter, pot of lentil stew and half a pan of date squares; or the 3 pairs of running shoes chewed up beyond recognition and the constant sweeping and mopping and vacuuming of hair and mud and drool weren't highlighted under the "pros" section on the adoption form for a reason. Still, Barney was a solid, loyal, albe...

Aw crap. It's raining out. Rainy rainy raining, none of this spitty misty rain, nah it's full on rainy rain and dammit I wanted to go to the post office and pick up a bottle of that Riposso Italian red we had the other night. Dammit. Sheldon sighed, a long, loud, exaggerated sigh, fully voiced, making Corbin the Corgi twitch his ears back, as if flicking off an errant fly. To his credit, Corbin snuffled a beat then fell back into his deep sleep, dreaming of whatever it is that fat under exercised middle aged corgis dream about. Sheldon looked at the sleeping dog. Let sleeping dogs lie, right? Dammit, I should take the dog with me but he hates the rain more than I do. Aw crap, I hate the rain. It never, ever lets up, I swear. Sheldon deflated back into the couch, letting his head snap back on his spine like a marionette, resting against the sagging cushions well worn from hours of stasis spent sitting in front of the television, day in and day out. He should get rid of this couc...

If Robbie was a dog he'd most definitley be a Bassett hound. A very large, lumbering one with floppy ears and fin-like turned out paws and a nose as keen as they come. Cheryl loved Robbie, she did, but she misses the young, fit and feisty Rob- the one more akin to a Coon hound or German short haired Pointer. Active and alert, curious and on point. The man who would wake her up with great morning sex and then hustle her out to the gym or for a run where they would laugh and whinge and moan and end up at their favourite local indie roaster for smart coffees and splurge on a decadent pastry every now and then. Now that occasional indulgence is three times a day for him, the sex has all about disappeared and Cheryl can't remember the last time Robbie laced up his trainers let alone logged some miles. Recovery is hard, she gets that. It took nearly 12 weeks of solid rehab and physio to repair her achilles but she bounced back, she had to. Robbie on the other hand, took her down time...

Stop it, stop it, just stop it. I can't get anything done when you're climbing all over me. Jeez, for real, you know, just like, gimme a minute. Man. Look, I'm sorry- I don't wanna be rude but come on now, settle down. It's like the minute I get home you're all over me like white on rice. I can't think straight, my head is swimming with everything coming at me. Just. Settle. Down. Yeah, alright, ok, I'm sorry. I just need a minute, alright? Lemme take my coat off for cryin out loud, put my feet up for a sec then I can focus on you. I'm tired too, buddy, it's been a long day; I just need some space and then I can give you all the attention you need. Just five minutes of my own though, got it?  Here, look. This is how it's gonna be. I'm walking away, got it? Goin to the bathroom, gonna take a quick shower, rinse off the day. I know, I know...maybe ten, then. You can handle ten more minutes, right? What do you want me to do, huh? You want m...