Blush

Coffee…. that’s all I can think about as I raise my head off my pillow. Was it really worth staying up till 2 am to binge-watch Penny Dreadful? Probably not… Harley enjoyed it anyway. C’mon, boy...let’s go out for a morning pee. You’re my best friend, too…thanks for the kisses. C’mon, before one of us has an accident.

The familiar creak of the back door is a little louder today because of the rain. Note to self: buy WD-40. C’mon Harley…don’t be a wimp…it takes like two seconds to pee and I didn’t make you use the doggy door…I’ve been extremely accommodating. I’m about to pee myself boy…gotta go. The door creaks even louder as I close it. Sorry, boy, gotta go do my own business.

Why does the first morning pee feel so good? What time is it? Didn’t bring my phone with me…well, guess it’s better than getting bathroom germs on the phone. I wash my hands till the hot water starts running and splash some on my face. I ignore the splashy mess I make on the counter. Today is a day for a splashy face wash. Better yet, let’s make this fast. I’m gonna have a wet dog coming in any minute…ugh.

Hmmm…where’s Harley? I look out the windows to see if he ended up resting on the porch carpet. He likes to watch the rain sometimes. No Harley. Ok, so time for coffee. I slowly walk to the kitchen, yawning and shivering from the cold in the house. I like to sleep in the cold, but not wake up in a cold house…have never figured out how to marry those instincts. What flavor is it today? Vanilla or Mocha? Not feeling chocolate today and I did buy a new Irish Crème creamer. Yeah, let’s do Vanilla.

Coffee’s on, toasting a bagel. Where’s that creamer? Where’s Harley? Don’t smell wet dog yet…hmmm. Creamer found, bagel toasted, and I found the cream cheese, too. Stellar morning so far, besides the Penny Dreadful hangover. Let’s start a fire before having to deal with wet dog. Another note to self: bring some more wood in from woodshed out back. Smell of hot coffee and burning wood is just about the best smell around. Before my take-out is ready, let’s go take care of my co-worker.

“Harley!” I call as I walk toward the back door. I whistle, but don’t hear paws on the wood of the porch. Open the creaky door; call out “Harley!” ...long whistle…” Hey, boy.” Here comes my fuzzball. What was I thinking when I adopted a sheepdog mix? I grab the dog towel off the porch chair and rub him down. Not so bad…hardly wet, but those paws…may have to have a little foot wash, boy. Yea, too much mud. Where’d you go, Harley?

Paws cleaned, coffee mug filled, and bagel almost finished; even licked the cream cheese off the side. Changed into my work pajamas, no meetings today. 7:45 am and I open my laptop, power up and let’s get ready to employ some folks. Been the senior recruiter at WestPhone for the last three years and enjoying telecommuting for the first time in a long time. I like staying home with my fuzzball and I think Harley likes having me here, too. Here comes my cubby mate…ready for a morning nap, buddy?

I get knee deep into interviews and before I know it, it’s 10 am. Breakfast time for Harley. Where is Harley? He’s usually curled up on his bed by the office desk with his favorite worn toy, looks like a baby’s teething toy, complete with the pastel blue color; he’s a boy after all. Peek around the corner, looking to see if he’s by the fire…sometimes a nice warm fire is too tempting for fuzzball. Nope, not there. Hmmm…let’s go get the dish filled. The sound of the food hitting the aluminum bowl will probably bring him running, more like galloping.

The doggy corn flakes hit the tin and I expect his wet nose to be in the dish before I can finish pouring. Nope, no Harley. I walk to the back door and I don’t see him on the porch. May as well get the wood since I’m walking this direction. I bend over to get the wood and I feel Harley rub against the back of my legs. “Hey, buddy…love you, too…let’s go put the wood by the fireplace.” Harley comes around and steps in front of me. “C’mon buddy, let me by, it’s a little too cold and wet out here.” Harley whines and gets up but stays in front of me. “I’ve got your breakfast ready for you…c’mon, there’s a warm fire, too…you can take your post-breakfast snooze in the living room, if you want.” He keeps prancing in front of me and looking towards the woods and back to me. “If you need to go again, go ahead, buddy. I won’t rush you…the food will keep.” I step around my fuzzball and go inside, leaving the door open for him to follow.

I put the wood down and full expect Harley to be fully engaged in chowing down, but he’s at the back door looking at me.

“C’mon bud, I’ve gotta get back online.” I pull the door closed and he comes in, still glancing back behind him. I grab my coffee cup on my desk and walk to the kitchen to get a refill and debate having a little dish of yogurt with some fresh strawberries I got from the neighbor. Always been jealous of people who can grow things. I’m lucky to keep fuzzball and myself alive. Harley stands in the kitchen looking at me, ignoring his cornflakes. “What’s wrong, fuzz? Gotta tummy ache? I got your favorite and even put a little gravy from my meatloaf on it.” He walks over to his dish and starts eating, but looks up at me in a weird way. “Gotta go back to work, Har…see you in there in a minute.”

I take myself off “Be right back” status and get ready for the next interview. I have 5 minutes to get my documents together. I open the resume of the next candidate on the screen to review and Harley is right by my side. He’s looking up at me and he’s whining. “What’s a matter, bud? I can’t play with you right now, I’ve gotta work. Maybe this guy will be a no-show and we can play for about 10 minutes.” No such luck. I close out the interview with a “thank you and we will be in touch early next week regarding your status.” My usual closing line.

When I stretch, Harley is right by my side again, whining. He puts his paw on my knee. Ugh…mud…I didn’t get a chance to wash your paws when you came in for breakfast, buddy. Oh well, let’s go clean you off with the wet towel. I put myself on “Be right back” status and stand up. Harley runs to the back door, squeezes through the doggy door and stands on the porch looking at me and glancing towards the woods. He backs up as I get the towel to wipe his paws. “C’mere, Harley, gotta wipe those paws. You already tracked enough mud in the house and I gotta change my pajama bottoms.” He keeps backing up and then he barks, loudly. Well, that’s new. Harley never barks. The only time I’ve ever heard Harley bark like that is when I fell down the steps and twisted my ankle. “What’s the matter, bud? What’s with the barking?” Suddenly, I feel like I’m in a Lassie episode. “C’mere, fuzz. Let’s clean you up. I’ve gotta go back online and you need to get back to napping.” I reach out for him and he looks back at the woods but surrenders to me and the towel. He keeps whining, but he tolerates the paw-wiping. “Let’s go back in, bud.”

He follows me in with a hung head like I’ve just scolded him, but his tail is still wagging. He looks back at the woods one final time and then steps through the door with me. I walk to the kitchen and put the dirty towel in the laundry room. Harley follows me wagging his tail and smiling at me with his goofy tongue hanging out of his mouth. I feel bad, but I’m not sure why. “Ok, Har, I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll do it this once.” I reach to the secret shelf above the dishwasher and get him a treat. “Wanna treat, boy?” He prances and wags his tail even harder. “Catch, Har!” I throw it for him to catch, but he looks behind him toward the living room and backs up and looks at me. The treat lands on the floor and Harley walks over and eats it with little interest. Ok, that’s weird. This dog lives for treats.

“C’mon, boy, let’s go back to work.” That’s if I still have a job. I knew I didn’t have an interview until about 1 pm. Thankfully, I made it back just in time for the next interview. No lunch for Harley’s cubby mate. Fuzzball stays right by my chair. “Go lay down, Harley, we are in for the long haul now, buddy, got back to back interviews for, at least, the next two hours.” Harley turns and goes to lay down on his bed, but his head doesn’t hit the mat.

I take myself off “Be right back” status and dig into the next interview. “Good afternoon, Ms. Miller…this is Roger Feder and I’m calling from WestPhone. We had an interview scheduled for 1 pm. Are you ready for your interview this afternoon?” Next time, I look up from my screen, it’s 3 pm. I turn around to check on Harley. Guilt trip…I roll my eyes, but then I see that he’s not on his sleeping mat. Where is that dog now? I’m done with interviews for today, just follow-up paperwork. I put myself on “Appear Away” and become a pooch detective.

No; not in front of the fire, not at his dish, and not on the porch. I step out and call for him. “Harley...Harley! Where are you, boy?” Long whistle…no dog, but I see paw prints. I hear a bark in the distance. Uh-oh, you better not be in the neighbor’s garden, boy. That could cost me my free strawberries. I begin my search down the path and the paw prints trail about halfway down and then disappear. Left, or right? I look under some foliage and I find paw prints to the right. This does not look good for fuzzball. I hear another bark in the distance. Keep barking, dog. You cost me my strawberries, you’re in your crate for the night.

I see a shed in the distance. Why have I never noticed this before? I guess she put up a lean-to for her garden tools. I hear a familiar bark and I’m envisioning a very sad dog in time out tonight.

“Hey, stranger…” I turn around and see a familiar face. Strawberry lady. “I think I have a surprise for you.” I look at her with a puzzled look. “Oh, really? Good surprise or bad surprise?” She comes toward me as I approach the little gate she has around the shed. She always smells so good. She smiles and I feel like I did my senior year when Katie Morris smiled at me at a football game. What the hell, Roger? Stop thinking about strawberry lady that way. “Let me show you.” I almost trip over my own feet as I open the gate for her. “Such a gentlemen…” Hmmm…is that flirting I detect? Could be a good surprise, regardless of my pooch getting into her garden.

She opens the little half-door and motions with her head to come in. I move past her. Stop smelling her, Roger. I turn around and I don’t see what she wants me to see; I only see garden tools. “Am I missing something?” She motions with her chin, “take a look in the corner.” I step past the shovel and look in the corner and see Harley, full of mud, and just as I’m about to scold him, I see another movement and hear a small whine. Who do we have here? I lift the top of a large box and see strawberry lady’s spaniel laying with about 6 puppies, all competing for some lunch.

“Well, Harley, you’ve been busy, buddy.” I lean over to pet him and pick up one of pups. “You are about the cutest thing I’ve seen, since I was handed some free strawberries the other day.” I look up to see her reaction. Blush of the cheeks and a smile. Hmmm…nice move, buddy. I lift the pup and say, “this little girl will be called Blush.”