Bor(ed)is

Boris had woken up on the floor.

He had a bed, but as usual when the nights were this hot, he couldn’t stand staying in it. Martin tried numerous ways of convincing him to stay in bed with him, but to no avail. Boris didn’t mind cuddling on the long winter nights, but in the summer, he needed his space. It was one of the things Martin just had to accept.

Just like Boris tolerated Martin’s merciless snoring. Which, with his heightened hearing, was quite a challenge.

Then they had breakfast – as usual, together. Eggs on toast for Martin, what Martin jokingly called granola for Boris. Martin spent most of the time scrolling through his phone – something Boris hated, but it wasn’t like he could say anything. Boris enjoyed being the centre of attention to the point where he wasn’t above attempting to climb into Martin’s lap, just to get his eyes off the horrible screen he couldn’t seem to look away from for a single second. Boris knew he’d get an earful if he did that, though, so he just cleared his bowl like a good boy and waited for Martin to be done, staring at him expectantly.

Once Martin was done with his eggs – which, today, he didn’t feel charitable enough to share with Boris – came the time for the next point of their morning routine – the walk. It was probably Boris’ favourite part of the day, that little moment together, before Martin had to head off to work. They lived close to a nice park with a pond – Boris loved it. Martin had already been living there when Boris moved in, and the circumstances couldn’t have been better. Boris liked to goof around, chasing the ducks that were always present by the pond. Martin always pretended to be annoyed by Boris’ childish antics, but Boris knew that secretly, Martin loved it when he did that. He would never admit it out loud, but Boris has seen the smile threatening to split Martin’s lips in two at the sight of the ducks wobbling away more than once.

Boris’ mood dropped significantly when Martin was chatted up by a woman wearing nothing more than skin-tight leggings and a bra. Boris knew her from their evening jogs – she sometimes chose to go for a run in the late afternoon, at the same time he and Martin did after the latter came back from work. Boris had caught her side-eyeing Martin more than once, especially when he would wear that particular shirt, with the holes under the arms cut so low they showcased bare skin underneath.

Naturally, Boris despised her. The woman had eyes – it was proven given how often she glued them to Martin. She could see Martin wasn’t alone. He never went alone to the park – always made sure to invite Boris to accompany him when he did. Worse yet, despite Martin and Boris always being glued at the hip, the woman never acknowledged Boris’ existence. All of her attention went to Martin.

As though her brain didn’t allow her to focus on more than one thing at a given time.

Of course, Martin was allowed to talk to people. Boris knew that. He also knew that Martin talking to or spending time with others did not mean he loved Boris any less. Martin had made that clear that one time when Boris sulked particularly long, when that wench of a woman had worn a top with a neckline so low it might as well not have been there at all. And Martin had looked. Boris knew that Martin had looked. And he had not appreciated it.

So yes, Boris knew he shouldn’t be pissing circles around Martin to mark his territory, but still, that did not mean he enjoyed Martin’s attention on anyone other than him. Especially that lady from the park.

The worst part, however, always came when Martin left for work. With a kiss to the forehead, he grabbed his keys and wallet and went out every day except Saturdays and Sundays. Leaving Boris there, first to listen to the final sound of the key turning in the lock, then to the rumble of the car engine as Martin’s car left the driveway.

Many cars sounded like Martin’s car. Multiple times a day, Boris would be shaken from his nap by someone who wasn’t Martin driving down their street. He would rush to the big window in the living room and peer out with excitement, only to discover it was yet another random car zooming by.

Usually, Martin would leave music on. Boris liked having music on during Martin’s absence, because as the songs played away, he felt less alone. Today, though, Martin must have forgotten because there was nothing but suffocating silence and the occasional rumble of a car – a wrong car – passing by to accompany Boris in counting down the minutes until Martin’s return.

In silence, he wandered the house, maundering from room to room. The bedroom, Martin’s office, the kitchen – where Boris disappointingly did not find anything yummy he could munch on just to pretend it never existed in the first place on Martin’s demand – the living room, even the bathroom. The latter was usually off-limits to Boris, due to his tendency to leave wet footprints all over the house, much to Martin’s annoyance.

“When you start cleaning after yourself, you can reside in the bathroom as much as you want,” he’d say. “But until then, this room is off-limits. Got it?”

Boris has already left a nose print on the freshly-cleaned window when he got particularly excited about a car that looked exactly like Martin’s. Martin would notice, he always did. He would shake his head and look at Boris in that way of his, but he wouldn’t say anything.

Just like with the ducks situation, he wouldn’t actually be mad.

Boris was slowly going mad with boredom, though. It was too hot to sleep. Too hot to do anything, really. Martin had left the windows open so that Boris would have some air to breathe, but that air was boiling. It was thick and Boris felt like he was swimming in it, moving in slow motion, just like the time seemed to have slowed. Everything has slowed – save for Boris’ breathing, which has sped up. It rang out in the otherwise silent flat, tuning out even the sound of cars outside.

Even the couch that always called out to him whenever Martin wasn’t there to scold Boris for lounging on it lost its allure.

So he laid down by the front door, plastering himself to its wooden surface, trying to soak up as much of the cold as it had to give. The slightest glorious breeze seeped in through the tiny crevice under the door, cooling Boris down slightly. This blissful feeling must have lulled him to sleep, after all, because soon, he was being jolted awake by something.

Boris’ sleep had been so deep, he didn’t connotate the sound with what it meant at first. So deep, he hadn’t even heard the first sound – the right car with the right driver pulling up onto the driveway – and was now surprised to hear the clinking on the other side of the door. He rose, listening, but – yes, there it was, the unmistakable sound of the key sliding into the lock and turning.

Bliss – complete, unadulterated joy exploded inside Boris and he expressed it with a happy bark, unable to contain it. His tail wagging, he stood in his usual spot, right in the middle of the hall, facing the door, waiting for it to open.

And as soon as it did, Boris took off and rushed Martin like a missile. The man barked out a laugh, followed by an oomph when he caught Boris’ paws – barely – just as they slammed into his chest. As a Bernese Mountain Dog, Boris was no lightweight. Martin’s hands trembled as he tried to hold Boris up for as long as he could, laughing the entire time. He eventually told him to get down, and Boris did, but still, his happiness did not ease one bit.

Today has been torturous. Never-ending. Excruciating. Boring.

But this – now – this exhilaration, the smile on Martin’s face, the thrill of seeing him again after so long, has wiped that all away.

Boris was ready for his evening jog with Martin. And if the busty lady showed her face, this time, he would make sure to snarl in it. Just to make up for what had seemed like the longest day in Boris’ life.