Puppy Love

How in the world can birds be so damn cheerful in the morning? The dialogue from a strange version of one of Nick’s co-workers echoed in the most surreal office building he had ever been in. The chirps gave way to the fire alarm, and he woke in a panic.

It didn’t take him long to figure out where the noise came from; grabbing his phone with a frustrated sigh, he swiped his alarm off and muttered, “Oh yeah, it’s a workday.” He stood up and stretched, moving just the tiniest bit faster than a slug.

Mornings had never been easy for Nick, even when he had been in school. How he got his law degree hopped up on near-lethal doses of caffeine, unhealthy amounts of sucrose and his drained youthful stamina remained a mystery.

He walked into the bathroom and noted that he put today’s suit in there last night, a habit he began cultivating two months ago; he now remembered to do it three days out of five. The water came out of the spigot with its customary grumbling and protesting; he set a timer for his shower and stepped inside.

Today only taking seven minutes out of the maximum ten, he dressed and styled his hair, something he didn’t consider vanity per se, but necessary for being a lawyer, since people judge by looks and want someone clean and put-together. If office dress rules allowed it, he’d use no styling products and have a permanent dark five o’clock shadow.

When he felt he looked the part, he went down to eat. He lucked out in finding this apartment about eighteen months ago; it may be a one-hundred-plus-year-old house, but the somewhat strict landlord had the most amazing heart anyone could ask for. Thea didn’t have a problem with making a hearty meal in the morning, one that often included fresh baked bread.

Nick had some cooking skills, but his repertoire was pretty basic: eggs, meat, potatoes, and simple pastas mostly, with a set of fancy “guaranteed to get you laid” breakfast, brunch and dinner meals to show off.

As he finished reading the latest news on his phone, his food long gone, Thea came into the kitchen. She wore black-framed glasses, her dark hair twisted up into a bun with some special sticks, and wearing of her amazing Neo-Gothic outfits on. For a shorter woman, she could fill the room with her presence. It had surprised him how young she had been when he first met her; they only had a couple of years between them, him being younger.

“Morning, Nick,” the early bird chirped. He knew by now that she had been up for hours, at least five am, a concept he never could wrap his head around. “Breakfast all right?” she asked, her face showing some irritation. Or it may have been frustration.

“Fantastic as always,” he replied, trying to gauge her mood as he smiled at her.

She nodded, her lips going thin. Not an encouraging sign. “Good,” she said, looking away from him. “Can I get your help real quick in my showroom, please?”

“Su-sure,” he stuttered out, rising to put his dishes in the dishwasher. “Be there in a sec.”

His cleanup done, he walked into the largest room of the house, one that displayed her incredible, handmade, custom-designed clothing. She stocked costumes, suits and all kinds of accessories for a multitude of tastes, from conservative contemporary to what he assumed was Neo-Gothic, or Neo-Victorian. He mixed the two up all the time.

A glance around told him there didn’t seem to be anything that needed heavy lifting; however, one thing stood out. “Your pillow display is missing,” he remarked, puzzled as it had been whole as of last night.

“That’s what I need to talk to you about. I almost had an anxiety attack this morning, because someone took them. My first thought had been that a thief had broken in and stole my merchandise, which caused me to run around looking for what they had stolen in an absolute panic. That’s when I saw a strange thing over in the bay window.” Her steps creaked and clacked as she marched to the area in question, a gorgeous, semi-circular floor-to-ceiling accent piece she used for her monthly displays.

In one corner lay the purloined cushions, stacked in a bizarre, haphazard pile. Thea grabbed something up from the middle of the mess and held it up to him. “Care to explain how this little guy got in here?” she asked, shifting the squirming black and white puppy so he rested against her neck.

Nick could tell that a prickling, tightening look of horror creeped onto his face. “Oh shit, how could I have forgotten about him this morning?”

“Don’t worry,” Thea told him, trying to ignore the excited all-over licking. “I let him outside as soon as I saw him in here.” She looked down at the puppy, who licked her chin in response, then glared at Nick. “So. How old is he, what breed is he, does he have a name, and why is he here?” came the rapid-fire one sentence questions.

Fear became a rock he couldn’t seem to dislodge in his throat; Thea could give some judges some stiff competition in intimidation tactics. “Well, I know that you’re my landlord and-”

“Just answer my questions,” she cut in, “and no Law & Order melodramatic lawyer-speak this early in the morning, please.”

He huffed out a half-chuckle and set out to explain everything he could to her. “This so far nameless guy is somewhere around twelve weeks old, a pit bull mistaken for a pug, and it’s a long story I’ll try to condense down.”

Thea cocked her head towards the puppy, still staring at Nick with a confused expression. The tiny dog squirmed and appeared to derive great enjoyment in soaking her cheek with drool. “How in the world does someone mix up two unique breeds of dogs?” she asked, giving the squirming bundle some absent-minded scratches as she spoke.

“My co-worker, who is brilliant in the courtroom but of questionable intelligence in his personal life, didn’t pay attention to the ad he looked at. He’s a bit of a flake,” he said, trying to be as nice about it. “This guy thought he would get a pug for his current girlfriend, thinking it might move their relationship forward to possible matrimony. Well, turns out, she hates dogs and pit bulls the absolute most. He found this out in the office when she came for a visit. Let’s just say we all heard her incredible screeching echoing through closed doors. She yelled how she wanted that ‘killer of a dog’ put down. Hearing that, the guy broke up with her on the spot and security dragged the ex-girlfriend out.”

Thea emitted a low, shocked sound, and shook her head. “What a piece of work; he dodged a bullet there. OK, OK, I’ll let you down,” she said to the wriggling worm, who scampered back to the pillows in the window and settled in for some light guard duty. “Seriously, that’s messed up! It’s the owner, not the breed. I hate people like that,” she muttered.

“Me too. In brief, the dope can’t keep the puppy because of his apartment rules; he talked to every single person in the office if they wanted to take it for a while, if not permanently; no one wanted to, though. I’m the last person he hadn’t bothered, and, well…”

She let the pause go on for a bit before she said, “Well, what?”.

“He made a good argument: big house, a great backyard, someone home to care for him… Please don’t kick me out. I’ll pay for the pillows, any damage he causes and all his needs.” I sound like such a single-digit kid right now; that’s not cool, he thought, embarrassed with his regression.

She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. “I won’t kick you out, but you know I told you no pets when you moved in. This is setting my schedule out of whack, and my anxiety is rising,” she said in a voice that had the thinnest veneer of calm. “You should also remember that I don’t like sudden surprises.” She expelled every bit of breath she had in her body. “Seven days. I’ll give you seven days to try to re-home him. If not, we’ll revisit the puppy staying.”

Knees turning to jelly, relief poured through him. “Thank you so much, Thea. His food is in my room; I’ll go bring it to the kitchen for you. He doesn’t have any bowls just yet, but, ah, yeah. His food,” he repeated and turned to run upstairs.

“Guess I’m going to have to puppy-proof in here, aren’t I?” he heard her say to the dog, which gave him hope she hadn’t been too angry. With any luck, she can get those pillows back from the window and be able to salvage them, but that may never happen; his bank balance would take quite a hit this month with all the sudden unexpected expenses.

He entered the office, and worked through to his lunch, which he used to go buy a couple of toys, including the mandatory ball, a leash, a collar, and food bowls, stowing them in his car. The afternoon had been almost uneventful, save for the puppy-buyer coming in to apologise again; it didn’t take long to see he had no inclination to take the animal back.

As he pulled up to the house, he noticed that the shop lights remained on; a good sign that Thea would be in there sewing her commissions or more merchandise. With a quick prayer that cheerful moods abounded and little destruction happened today, he entered the mudroom, just off of the kitchen.

He didn’t hear any music or podcasts blaring, which meant she wasn’t working so he could go in without breaking her concentration. Early on, Thea explained she had Autism Spectrum Disorder, which caused her to have very specific routines, needs and quirks that he had to keep in mind. Some of her stipulations seemed rigid, but it all made sense. If he forgot to say anything about his schedule, didn’t do his share of chores, or did something stupid such as bringing in an unexpected puppy, it threw her off pretty bad, and her mood would oscillate from happy to lost to panicked to frustrated and back for the day.

He discovered early on it’s impossible to be a ninja with these creaky floors, but scaring his landlord out of her wits would never be in his best interests. He walked down the hall to the showroom, and enjoyed the sight of Thea sitting cross-legged playing tug-of-war with the pup using a makeshift toy she must have cobbled together earlier in the day of thick, knotted scraps of material.

“Hi, I’m back,” he called out, making the nameless dog freeze, and then give a funny baby growl yip combination before running over for attention. He bent down to pat to the little guy, then walked over to sit across from his landlord, trying to gauge her mood. The only safe question he could ask had to be, “How are you?”. He grabbed the toy, and watched as the puppy pounced on and then bit it with surprising strength.

“This was pretty much our day,” she said with a smile. “But he’s such a little devil. I confiscated the pillows and tossed the pile just inside my workroom, so I could figure out if they’re salvageable. From a health standpoint, probably not. However, this sneaky little booger stole them all back and set up his nest in the window again, where he watched people pass by in absolute, sunny comfort. He tried to get out the door once, but I caught him.”

“Oh no, that isn’t good, now is it?” Nick remarked to the puppy that he had scooped up into his arms. “Hopefully we - I - can teach you some manners before you go.” He glanced at Thea and said, “Which I’m working on, but no leads so far.”

She nodded and watched him as he played with the bundle of energy. “He’ll need his supper, and to stay in the main house for a while; I have to puppy-proof my work area. As you may have noticed, I had to barricade him out so he won’t eat something he shouldn’t, like missed dropped pins, or material remnants.”

“Got it. I’m on dinner tonight, so give me about an hour.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Nick.”

That set the tone for the next few days. In the afternoon of the second day, he received a text from Thea. It read, “The puppy is such a cute little devil. Take a look!”, and had a video attached of the tiny dog hanging onto her skirt, happy to be dragged with deliberate slowness on the floor. “He’s been doing this to me for a while! Help!” she yelped in the clip.

Nick laughed and responded with an “aw” gif. Another text pinged. “By the way, his name is now Dante.” The response came faster than he could type. “You can think as in ‘Dante's Inferno’ or ‘Devil May Cry’; both work.”

“I like that!” he texted back, grinning in happiness that she was warming up to the puppy. “It suits him, especially with that cute white patch on his head.” He then sent another gif, this time of the character Dante from the video game franchise she mentioned.

Hours passed by, and they settled into a routine. Thea took care of the mornings with the adorable devil, while he had the afternoons, evenings and the weekend. 

On the sixth day, when closing time came, Dante ran into the living room and leapt at Nick for attention, attacking the leg of his jeans.

“Hello, you! Did you have fun running between here and there? Hey, what’s this you’re wearing now?” he asked, looking at the custom black, red and white bandanna tied loose around the puppy’s neck.

“I had the right leftover material. That and I couldn’t resist the perfect Dante colour palate,” Thea told him as she came into the room. “So, did you find anyone to take him?”

“No, and not for lack of trying. Pit bulls are an ‘undesirable’ breed, and everyone has rules or allergies against pets,” he said, his heart racing.

She sighed, and did the Peanuts wall pose, one arm laying across the sofa, the other supporting her head, and stared at him.

“What?” he asked, disconcerted by the suspicious blank look on her face. Thea said nothing. He laughed, nervous, and picked up Dante to cuddle him close. “What?” he asked again. More staring, until she couldn’t hold her mirth in as the puppy tried to French kiss him.

“Fine, you can keep him.” Her smile and laughter softened the harsh and husky words.

Nick’s stomach did a swan dive into twisted knot territory, and it was his turn to stare in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you’re financially responsible for him; food, supplies, registration, medical treatment, everything. I’ll babysit him during the day, but you need to get him trained as soon as possible.” She gave Dante a few pats and walked away.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said over her shoulder, “you owe me for six pillows.”

He laughed, “Pass me the invoice when you have the chance,” he told her.

“Will do. Order in to celebrate Dante’s adoption?”

“Sounds good,” he called back to her. He looked at the puppy in his arms. “Paying for those pillows isn’t too bad, but try not to cost me too much in her merchandise, OK boy?” 

He did some gentle rough housing with his new dog, and then said to him, “Thank you for getting her to forgive me. I appreciate that.”

Dante licked Nick’s face in gratitude, giving small yips and growls. Things might get chaotic, but it should be fine. Or so he hoped when he felt something wet on his leg. “I think the first thing we need to do is house-train you, though…”