I don’t know, Cookie. I do suppose he cleans up well. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble getting dates. Not thatI’ve been terribly impressed by them. Lately, it’s just the two of us.
Interesting … very interesting.
And what about your owner? Is your mommy betrothed or otherwise engaged?
I smile, seeing what he’s doing there. I have to give him props. In one short sentence, he’d asked my ageandmarital status. Possibly because of Cookie’s youthful and rebellious voice, he’s picturing her owner as an angsty teenager. He is about a decade too late for that.
She’s single. Very single. And all she does is work. When she’s not partying with me, of course.
Hey Cookie? Are you watching your movie yet?
Not yet, Oliver.
My owner is sitting down with our dinner, and he’s been surfing for something to watch. I’m not so sure I approve of him partaking in a meal on the sofa, but he does look tired, so I suppose I’ll allow it just this once.
It’s ok if you have to go, Oliver.
The stifling silence of the room I’m sitting in suddenly settles around me. Back to my lonely Saturday night, basking in the ghoulish glow of my Roku search screen. I’ll probably be asleep by ten.
Actually that’s not what I had in mind. I hate for my owner to have a hole in hisPride and Prejudiceoeuvre expertise. I thought we might watchPride and Prejudice and Zombies… dare I say … together?
Are you asking me on a date, Furball? Don’t you have to get permission for that or something?
Oh heavens, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear Cookie. We’re just two domesticated animals watching a movie together on a Saturday night. Let’s not put a label on it, shall we?
It’s a deal. Hit me when you’re ready.
And then I lean back, cue up the movie, and wait to hit play.
* * *
Several times during the movie, I find myself reaching for my design sketchbook. The costumes are exquisite. Right up my alley with their Victorian sensibilities crossed with a twist of badassery. It gives me ideas for a Steampunk collection. I can totally imagine Cookie in a corset with a holster. I wish I had more time to sew.
I set the sketchbook aside when we message.
She really shouldn’t have gone off with that Willoughby rogue,Oliver worries.
Who the hell does Darcy think he is, anyway? Lizzie doesn’t need his protection,Cookie comments.
I am never eating another housefly again,Oliver writes during the scene when they use houseflies to suss out the Zombies.
I have to laugh at that.
Curled up on the couch beside me, Cookie twitches and trembles restlessly. She’s probably dreaming about running away from cats. I feel slightly guilty to be impersonating her so shamelessly. And I’m surprised at how easy our conversation is. At no time during the film did I feel lonely or weird. I should feel weird, shouldn’t I? This isn’t exactly a normal interaction. But watching a movie with Oliver is so fun!
I’m not even sleepy. I seem to have found my second wind.
Things only get a little awkward when the credits roll. The film is over and, now what? Time to go for a walk? I don’t want to stop chatting. I feel like I have to say something after five minutes of silence. The credits are going to end soon.
Well, Furball …
I begin to type in the chat box, preparing to wish him a good night. Or peace out. Or whatever Cookie would say. Smell ya laters? See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya?
You still there, Cookie?Oliver asks before I can hit send.I just checked the challenge prompts while the credits were rolling. Have you had a chance to peruse it? This week’s posts involve costumery. We have been advised to “dress for success.” I do hope you’ll find yourself something befitting/appropriate to wear.
I will wear whatever I damn well please, Oliver,I type.You’re not my boss, and you probably wouldn’t recognizefashion if it landed in your cat bowl.
If he only knew! Of course, I’d been looking forward to this week’s assignment, pulling some of my favorite handmade outfits for Cookie to wear. A hot-pink wig, a leather jacket … I am pretty sure I’ll be photographing Cookie in the “Boss Bitch” T-shirt I made for her at some point this week. In fact, I was planning on having her wear it when the reporter came in for the interview.
