Puppy Love
by Peter Vaughan-Reid
‘I thought you liked dogs.’
‘I don’t, Will.’
Simon was the one who walked up to complete strangers and told them their dog was gorgeous, not me. I held the warm bundle of fur close to my chest.
‘How could you not like him? He’s beautiful.’
‘He’ll grow. He won’t stay a puppy. In a few months we’ll have a monster on our hands, eating through our money.’
‘You’ve always said you’d like a dog.’
‘I’ve got you to clean up after, why would I want a dog?’
It was a punch to the gut. I’d never hurt Simon like that.
‘I bought him for you, Sime. To keep you company.’
Simon turned his back on me and sliced through a tomato. ‘Are you planning on leaving, then?’
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘I’ve lived alone before. I don’t need a dog to keep me company.’
‘But you don’t like being in the house by yourself when I’m away.’
He spun around, the knife still in his hand.
‘Don’t put this on me. You’ll pick up anyone or anything that looks lost and lonely and in need of help. What’s next? Am I going to come home and find someone selling The Big Issue in the lounge room?’
I could feel the tears welling.
‘Don’t give me that hurt little boy look.’
He pulled a bag of lettuce from the fridge and slammed the door.
‘And who’s going to exercise it? I run. I don’t stop and cock my leg at every lamppost.’
I watched him divide the salad vegetables evenly between the two plates.
‘We’ve got a garden.’
‘We live in a terrace,’ he said, turning to look at me. ‘That’s not a Chihuahua in your arms.’
‘He’s a lurcher. Cross between a greyhound and Labrador. His name’s Lucky.’
‘For Christ’s sake. Think of the practicalities. We’re out all day, don’t get home ‘till late. It’s not fair on the dog. And what if it barks?’
He had a point. We wouldn’t like it if there was a dog barking next door. Simon carried the plates to the table. I sat down, putting the puppy in my lap.
‘He’ll have to go, Will.’
The edge had gone from his voice. It was slower, softer. I looked away.
‘I’ll take him back to the pound in the morning. Sorry, I thought— Shit! The little bugger’s peed on me.’
I stood up, knocking my chair over, holding the puppy at arms-length. Simon was laughing.
‘What did you expect? Give him to me. Go and get yourself cleaned up.’
I threw my clothes in the washing machine and jumped in the shower. When I got back, Simon was on the floor, sitting on the edge of a dustsheet that he must have brought in from the garage. A blanket was bunched up in one corner, beside it a shallow bowl of water. Simon was rolling a table tennis ball across the dustsheet and the puppy was chasing it.
‘He’s fast,’ said Simon. ‘Must be the greyhound.’
He hadn’t taken his eyes off the puppy.
‘You might want to heat the spanakopita up – what’s left of it. Lucky liked it. Didn’t think much of the lettuce though.’
‘You’re going to make him eat vegetarian?’
‘Of course.’
I sat down behind Simon, put my arms around him and nuzzled into his neck.
‘Why didn’t you admit you’d like a dog?’
‘A poodle. They have wool not fur.’
‘Is that what you’re worried about, keeping the house clean?’
‘A bit. You’re not good at seeing dirt.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘Maybe you should’ve put Lucky in my arms.’
(C) Peter Vaughan-Reid, 2020