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Upstairs, two of the bedrooms are furnished with the basics—a double bed, end tables, a chest of drawers, and a small desk. As soon as he sees the first one, Callum exclaims, “This one would be great for me.” It does look masculine, all done in tasteful blues, browns, and grays.
But geez, this guy seems anxious… or desperate.
The second one is roughly the same, but with a lighter color palette that includes some pastels. Petra announces, “I love this one. It’s perfect.”
Okay then.
The third bedroom across the hall houses my weights at one end and my desk at the other, so it’s my gym and homeoffice. Other than that stuff and a lumpy futon, it’s pretty empty, though it has a bunch of books on the desk and stacked around on the floor. I explain to them, “I need a private place for video meetings. The desk faces the door so I can have the wall behind me for a backdrop.” There is an attractive painting behind the desk that I hope makes people feel calm.
I had been feeling pretty good about the space, but seeing it through my potential roommates’ eyes, the books look sloppy. “I guess I could use a bookshelf,” I mutter half under my breath.
“What kind of work do you do?” Petra asks, bringing me out of my reverie about bookshelves.
“I’m a psychologist, but instead of office hours, I have video chats with clients.” They both give me odd looks. Great. “Don’t worry; I’m not in the habit of psychoanalyzing people unless they ask for it and pay me.” Changing the subject, I direct them onward down the hall. I don’t tell them my client list is far too short, and I need to do something about that. Now.
“If you guys take these rooms, you’d have to furnish your own linens and share the bathroom across the hall. Is that cool with you?” I eye them and see only eagerness on their faces.
They look at each other. Petra smiles and nods. “Fine with me,” she assures us.
“Okay with me too as long as you aren’t a mess.” Callum gives Petra a teasing look.
“I’m not a messy person,” she huffs. “I hopeyoucan remember to put the toilet seat down.”
Great. Are they already on each other’s nerves, or was that his weak attempt at flirting? Did he just wink at her? I look closely, and she seems to be blushing faintly. This could get interesting.
I show them my bedroom and ensuite bath for good measure. It’s definitely bigger and nicer by far, but hey—it’s my house. I have room for my large king bed, a spacious sitting area, and awalk-in closet. I’ve always liked this room, especially now that I have my own stuff in it. I used to live in my office/gym room. Before.
“Let’s go see the backyard, and I’ll introduce you to the guys.” They both eye me curiously. “The dogs are back there. They’re also house dogs, so I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Uh… about that…” Petra hedges.
“I thought you loved dogs.” I challenge her, probably with more vehemence than is necessary.
“I do! I just wonder how you feel about adding one more to the mix. He’s really a sweetie, and he’s out in the car.”
“Well don’t leave your dog in a cold car. Go get him and we’ll see how everyone gets along.” I’m shaking my head in my mind. Poor dog. At least it’s not snowing anymore, but you never know about early spring in Indiana.
“I’m sure he’s fine. He has a heavy coat,” she retorts. “I’ll go get him now.” Turning and muttering something that sounds like “I hope he hasn’t chewed up anything in the car,” she runs down the stairs and out the front door. I watch Callum as we follow her downstairs, and I don’t detect anything but interest in his gaze. I guess he really is okay with dogs. And women. Obviously, I need to get my attraction to him under control.
In less than a minute, Petra is dragged through the door behind a smiling, drooling, and completely enormous golden retriever. I swear the dog might outweigh Petra. The dog’s tail is wagging so hard, his whole butt is in motion. His friendliness is contagious, and I drop to my knees to greet him as Petra announces, “This is Gus. He’s kinda… wellreallynew. I recently found him at the animal shelter, and I had to get him out of there before…”
Instantly I feel a yank on my heartstrings as this sweet dog looks into my eyes. “I get it, Petra.”
Petra starts speaking again with a hitch in her voice. “I had to get him out of there because the shelter is so overcrowded. When I saw your ad saying ‘must love dogs,’ it seemed like a sign from heaven. He wasn’t microchipped, and calls to local vets and the golden retriever rescue groups haven’t turned up any leads as to his owner, so I wonder if he was dropped off when someone decided they couldn’t handle him. Poor guy. He is as sweet a dog as I’ve ever known.”
“Some people,” Callum mutters, “can be so clueless. He’s a beautiful dog.” He reaches out to pet Gus, and the happy dog looks at him like he hung the moon and then sits on his feet. Callum bursts out laughing and says, “You know how everyone always says, ‘He must smell my dog on me’? I don’t currently have a dog, so Gus must think I smell like something delicious since I work with food.”
Petra looks at me. “Should we introduce Gus to your dogs now? He’s friendly and plays well with others.” At that moment the pleading look in her eyes matches the way Gus is looking at Callum. With hunger.
“Sure. Let’s do it. We shouldn’t have any trouble with my guys.” I lead them all out back where my two are sound asleep, snuggled together on the patio furniture. “As you can see, they’re amazing watchdogs. The black Lab is Goliath.” We watch as he jumps down off the settee and stretches, then wanders over to Gus and immediately drops into the classic “Let’s play!” pose—front legs bowing to him, butt in the air, with the tail wagging a million miles an hour. Goliath is followed by my bossy little mini Aussie who constantly wants to herd everyone together. He quickly runs laps around us, yipping the whole time. “Clearly, Dave thinks he’s the top dog,” I say with a laugh.
“Dave and Goliath?” Callum asks with an amused look.
“Yes.” I nod and smile. “I always rooted for the underdog when I was a kid. I didn’t name Goliath, so I just went with it and named Dave accordingly.”
A burst of pain shoots through my heart at that thought, but I try to cover it with a smile. The truth is, Goliath seemed so pitifully sad after our loss, I wanted to get him a companion, and our vet told me about a family that was being transferred out of the country for an indeterminate amount of time. They had a young mini Aussie named Smoochie. They wanted to place him in a home with at least one other dog because they were worried that moving halfway around the world would be too stressful for a young dog, and they didn’t know what kind of living arrangements they would encounter. It’s worked out well having him. He made sure Goliath and I got off our butts and moved around during the day when all we wanted to do was wallow in our grief. I couldn’t bring myself to call the dog Smoochie, so I quickly got him adjusted to being called Dave. Note to self… if I ever have kids, do not let them name a pet when they are five years old.
But I don’t lay all of this on my prospective roommates.
