I had phoned her for support. She was waking. I imagined her blond hair astray across her face, her night ware in disarray, the softness of her and scent of her.
“They’re fangs. Like mosquito bites on steroids. A jaw full of discarded DTES razor blade needles.”
The new puppy was going through another phase. Last week he was pooing strategically where I walked. I had pee pads and poo pads all over the floor. I carried a flash light now first thing in the morning. Using it to safely reconnoiter the space to the light switch.
Now the poop and peer attacks have lessened. The teeth are what matters now.
“I think he knows. I think he’s Hal. A computerized dog that is gaslighting me and being controlled from some distance place for pure malfeance. He’s a tiny beast but a beast no less. He’s sits right behind me where ever I am. I’ve forgotten and twice nearly fallen backwards over him as he screeches and squeals. I’ve nearly died trying to maintain my balance and can tell he’s not hurt. Offended but not hurt. Then he’s at me with hist teeth. I tried to puppy proof the place but every day I find he’s found something that could be dangerous. I don’t know but he’s clever. Telling me I could suicide if you don’t serve me. Is marker pen toxic? He had a marker pen. He keeps finding coins, pennies. Under sofa, I suppose. But I’m immediately wondering how I can do a Heimlich maneuver on a tiny dog. I think he knows far more than he lets on. Inquisitive. Constantly busy and then he crashes like one of those Borg units that needs to recharge. He’s not natural.”
“He’s a puppy. He adores you. “
Her voice is soft and throaty. She hasn’t had coffee yet. If I were with her I could run my fingers over the softness and wonder of her. Her breasts are so beautiful my chest hurts when I see them half exposed under the morning covers. Her eyes hold galaxies of light in their depths reaching deep into the soul. I am reassured by her voice. It’s playful.
“You can say. You don’t have scars of little fangs like snake bites on your thigh. He attacked my thigh. I think I blocked a direct attack on my genitals. I could have been permanently mailed. Don’t you care?”
“You know I care about your genitals. I care about you.” I like that she’s said that. I suspect I was fishing. The male insecurity. The constant need for reassurance hidden deep down but never that far from the surface. The stiff upper lip. The strong and confident. All a show. Then she exposes everything. The depth of uncertainty. The desire for company. The joke of aloofness and independence. In a pout a man can be a hermit for life. But really heaven is to hold her.
“You are certain,” he’s not Satan’s spawn.” I can tell I’m weakening in my resolve.
“He’s not evil. He’s a puppy. He probably didn’t mean to bite you that hard. He’s just learning the world. He’s at that all mouth phase. Babis are like that. He’s also teething. His real teeth are growing under the baby teeth. It feels good and gives him relief to chew. He doesn’t know how much pressure to apply. He’s just learning. “ I imagine she’s brushed her hair from her face. She’s quite angelic. Her high cheeks are glorious in the morning light. I love to watch her breath when I wake before her. At dawn.
“So will you be coming over this weekend. I need some relief. Even if he’s just a puppy, his constant demands are driving me mad. I can’t even go to the toilet without him shadowing me.” I’ve not said I needed her. I’ve made it clear it’s just about the puppy. I’d hate to give the wrong impression. I’ve been hurt before. Not puppy teeth but more like Mayan ceremony of sacrifice to the rain God, Chaac , the beating heart torn from the living chest.
“I’ll be there on the weekend. After my clinic,” she says. “I’m so looking forward to seeing him. And you, of course. Love you.” The phone connection ends. I look at the end of the couch and his eyes have opened. He’s been listening. Now he’s watching me. Only Hitchcock could capture the moment. Just before the puppy calls the other puppies and they descend like crows to peck out the eyes of the human sacrifices.
I look at this a little puppy a while longer. He stretches as he wakens more before padding towards me to climb in my lap. I lift him up, his tiny black and white fur covered body, hardly hand sized. I lift him to my face looking into the depth of his eyes as his little red tongue flicks out and licks the tip of my nose.
I needn’t worry about her breaking my heart. The once slippered dance of love now jack booted and work booted and coupled with arthritic pain.
This little guy tore the heart right out of my chest the first moment I saw him. He’s just been licking up the blood ever since. Mischievous from the start. They are both trouble.
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