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He goes quiet.
“That’s more like it.” I go back to Netflix. I need a new series or something. I begin to scroll through. Yellowstone. I pause and read the blurb. Maybe this. I press play and settle in.
Ten minutes later, I see something from the corner of my eye in the reflection on the glass. Huh?
Something’s moving in the kitchen.
I peer around the corner and see the mutt standing outside my sliding glass door. He sees me and wags his tail. I open the sliding glass door in a rush. “What are you doing here?” I growl.
He wags his tail and pricks his ears up.
“Go home.” I point to the fence.
He walks in a circle.
“I said go the fuck home!”
He lies down on the concrete.
“You are not sleeping there,” I demand. “Go home.”
He rolls over onto his back.
“No.” I nudge him with my foot. “I am not scratching your belly. What the fuck do you think this is?”
He rolls over again and crawls toward me.
“Don’t even try that crap. We are not friends. Go home.”
He looks up at me, perplexed.
“The concrete is hard, you fucking idiot. Go home to your bed.”
He barks.
Ugh, I hate this dumb dog.
Juliet
I walk through my house, straight to the back door, and I open it and look out into the backyard.
Silence.
Barry is usually waiting at the back door for me after he hears my car arrive home.
Hmm. He must be asleep. I close the door and walk back into the house. I turn the television on and put some bread in the toaster. I look out into the yard through my kitchen window. It is weird he hasn’t come to see me.
I’ll just check if he’s okay.
I walk out into the yard. And using the flashlight on my phone, I walk to his doghouse. It’s empty.
“Barry,” I call softly.
Silence.
Fuck. I begin to get a little panicked. “Barry,” I call again.
I hear a soft bang, bang, bang coming from over the fence . . . his signature tail wag.
