Puppy Love

Chapter 1: All BarkMy back screamed as I leaned forward to grab the stupid weed. I’d been at it for hours, the sun beating down on my neck, sweat dripping off the end of my freckled nose. Sunscreen would help my sensitive pale skin only so much. I was surely going to burn, despite the sunscreen I’d liberally applied. I grabbed the tiny weed and carefully pulled, slowly, working it this way and that way to try and get the whole root. As I pulled, I cursed in my head. I hate this. I hate maintaining the garden. I hate weeds. I hate the soil. I hate everything about gardening. Every Saturday I’m outside pulling weeds, transplanting all the potted plants into bigger pots, pruning and trimming and fertilizing, and generally getting too much dirt under my fingernails. And every Saturday, I think about giving it up. But I always remind myself that I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for him. He loved his little garden. He put in the work because he loved what it looked like. He’s the one who hung the lights and potted plants so artfully and planted not just flowers, but all sorts of herbs and vegetables. He had dug out all the three-feet-deep worth of daylilies, leaving just a foot of space for them to quickly flower, then go away. He’d carved a path in the middle of them, placing stones to make sure he could get to the faucet without some spider finding his bare leg interesting. And he’d placed other stones leading off the porch, so the yard was more easily accessible from our side of the apartment building. He even worked well with the woman in the apartment upstairs from ours, who had taken it upon herself to divide the yard in half, and plant only the things she liked on her side. She’d also cut down and killed several of the bushes he’d planted years ago, before she had moved in. The beautiful lilac bush had been her first victim. She’d cut it down to barely more than sticks, then said she was surprised when it didn’t start to grow back, so she just had to pull it up and plant her dumb rose bush. I finished pulling the stubborn weed, sure some of the root was still in the rich soil, and made my way to the pile of weeds I’d created since nine o’clock. I put some of the weeds into a bucket to transport them to the garbage. Just as I stood up, stretching the sore muscles all over my body, my neighbor Gretchen came out of her side of the building. “Hey, Ash! It’s looking great out here!” “Thanks.” I wiped my brow and watched as she descended into the yard. “Your perennials look pretty. I love the hanging baskets.” She put her hands on her hips. “Ooh, what’s that?” She pointed at a little green plant in front of the fence. “It’s going to be a bleeding heart,” I said. I thought about what else I could say so I didn’t sound cold, but I couldn’t think of anything. I continued to grab at the weeds in the yard until I had the bucket filled. I was aware of Gretchen walking around and inspecting my side of the garden in my peripherals. She stopped near the fence and leaned down. I didn’t see what she was doing. “Here, I got another weed.” She turned as I looked up. “Gretchen!” I felt my stomach tense and jaw tighten as I saw what she was holding. “That’s not a weed, that’s a sage plant.” Her mouth fell open in shock. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. It looked like one of those noxious weeds—” “It doesn’t matter.” I snatched it from her hand and shoved it in the weed bucket. “I can buy another plant when I’m out shopping tomorrow.” She stood, silently, which just made me angrier. “I’m really sorry,” she finally said. “Did…did Sean—” “Yes, it’s one that he planted.” I stood up straight and faced her. “That’s kind of why I’d like you to just leave this side of the garden alone. No watering or pruning or weeding or anything. Just…leave it alone. Please.” “I’m sorry.” “You didn’t know.” Gretchen began to ramble. “I know, but I still feel bad. At least let me buy the new sage plant and put it in the ground for you. Seriously, I’ll just feel awful forever if I don’t make it right. Like, I will beat myself up every time I walk by and see the bare spot, and—” “Okay. You can buy the new plant if you want.” Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief. So glad I could ease her suffering. I didn’t say anything more as I walked around the fence, around the railing, and down the steps to the sidewalk. I made my way around the quadplex and had the bucket in the Dumpster, ready to tip out the contents, when I stopped. I stared at the sage plant, lying limply on top of all the weeds. And I couldn’t stop myself from seeing his face. His beautiful hazel eyes looked green or grey, depending on the shirt he wore. He had a small mole by the corner of his eye. And there was that one hair in the middle of his eyebrows that kept growing back no matter how many damn times we tweezed it. His pouty lower lip that I would sometimes bite with affection. His blond hair, tousled to one side. And his cheek, so soft as I would stroke it lightly with my thumb. I blinked and his face was gone. Again. Always. “Bark!” I started and looked around. Nothing. No dog. I could have sworn— “Bark!” “Yah!” I turned around. The bark had come from right behind me. Sure enough, there was a…dog. It was not a pure breed of any kind. It looked like a mad scientist had pieced it together from various dogs and dyed it platinum blond. It was small, probably not more than ten or fifteen pounds. It had a fairly flat face, with big brown eyes poking out from under some longer hair around its face. The dog was well-taken care of. The hair all along its body was trimmed, and the hair on its face was cut to look like a teddy bear. Its ears were perky as it stared up at me, tail wagging. “Hey, there.” I held out my hand to see if I could approach it. I could see a collar, but as I looked around, I couldn’t see an owner. As soon as my hand reached the dog’s face, it licked my hand excitedly, and said, “Bark!” It wasn’t a “woof” or a “ruff.” It truly sounded like it was saying “bark”! “Well, hello there, little puppy. You’re so cute. Yes, you are. You’re just the most adorable pupper I’ve ever seen!” All my anger melted away as the canine let me scratch its back, down to the base of its tail, where it promptly increased its wagging and arched into my hand. It liked that. Its tongue stuck out of its mouth and it panted happily. It also felt really warm. Maybe it had been out in the sun for too long. “Are you thirsty? Do you want some water? A drink?” Seeming to understand me, it jumped up and down. I dumped the bucket in the Dumpster and took a few steps, but then I remembered why I’d hesitated in the first place. I rushed back and could barely make out the sage plant, stuck under a pile of weeds and other debris, sitting directly on the bottom of the Dumpster. There was no way I was getting it back. It was gone. Sean’s sage plant was forever gone. My eyes welled up with tears as I stared at it, not caring about the rancid smell filling my nostrils. Just as a tear fell onto the weeds I’d put in there, I felt a few taps on my ankle. I saw the dog’s expectant face, paw on my leg, as if it were saying, “Uh, hello? You said water. Where’s the water?” I wiped my eyes and laughed at myself. I was crying over a plant I hadn’t used to care about. I knew Sean wouldn’t have wanted that. I felt ridiculous. “All right. Let’s see if I can find you some food to go with that as well.” I walked down the alley and turned to see it sitting patiently by the garbage can. “You can come with me.” I patted my leg and the dog bounded over like we were about to go on an adventure. It followed me down the sidewalk to the steps on my side of the building. The building had two addresses, 5215 and 5227. I lived in the bottom apartment on the left side in 5215, apartment three, and Gretchen was above me in apartment one. Then some girl going to school lived in the number four next door, and an older woman resided above her in number two. I hadn’t interacted with either of them much, but they’d been nice enough to let Gretchen do all their gardening for them. Rather, Gretchen just did it and they put up with it. I unlocked my door and stepped inside, kicking off my flip-flops by the radiator. The dog cautiously sniffed around the door as I stood there. “So, pets aren’t allowed in our building. But since you’re not my pet, and I’m helping you out only until your owner comes, I guess I can let you in. Come on.” The dog stepped inside and immediately began sniffing everything—the back of the couch, the table legs, and the ottomans. My apartment had two bedrooms, but I was using the second one as storage for the time being. Well, technically, for the last two years. I’d just thrown everything in the spare room and told myself I’d deal with it later. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d opened the door. The dog skittered around on the laminate hardwood floor, then into the bedroom. I took off my gloves and set them on top of the radiator. I heard the dog’s nails stop on the floor, and I turned to see it standing in the doorway with a shoe in its mouth. One of Sean’s shoes. “Hey! Drop it.” I pointed at the floor. The animal didn’t move, instead staring at me with bright eyes and a tail pointing straight up. “Drop. It.” The dog’s tail wagged slightly. I took a step toward it and it quickly backed away. “No, no, no. This is not a game. Drop the shoe.” The dog growled as it violently shook its head back and forth. “That is not a toy. Drop it. Give. Let go. Um…Release!” None of the commands worked. So, a smart dog that had no training. I sure hope the dog didn’t pee on anything while it was in my bedroom. I decided to act supremely unconcerned, and meandered around the living room for a moment, growing closer and closer, but not looking at the dog at all. I could feel its eyes on me, and I could almost hear it saying, “Are you gonna play? I have a toy! Let’s play! Are you gonna? Huh? Huh?” I made my way around the sofa, looking at the few pictures on the walls and running my hand along the slightly dusty bookshelf on the way to the doorway. Then, thinking I was definitely the smartest one in the room, I lunged, grabbing at the shoe. But the dog was too fast and bounded backward, then around me as I fell on my knees. “Oh, it’s on.” I chased the little devil around the ottomans. It leaped onto the sofa, then ran along the back and down again, its nails scrabbling on the floor as it scrambled toward the bedroom. “There’s only so many places you can go!” I followed the rascal and found it standing in the middle of the bed, the shoe still in its mouth. I made my way toward it, knees slightly apart and fingers splayed. “Easy…easy there, little pup.” The dog quickly moved to the left, and I matched. But it was a fakeout. The demon ran to the right and jumped down, then disappeared under the bed, where I promptly heard a few crunching noises that told me it was now chewing on the shoe. I slammed my fists onto the bed. “That is not a toy! Get over here!” “Bark!” “Don’t you talk back to me. Get out from under that bed!” “Bark! Bark bark!” I laughed. “You watch your mouth.” I shook myself. He had Sean’s shoe. This wasn’t funny. I got onto my hands and knees and peered under the bed. Man, I was not a good housekeeper. I coughed at the musty dust smell. I could see over all my shoes to the wall, where I could just make out two slightly shining orbs. The eyes of the shoe killer. “I see you, doggo. I see you.” In reply, he growled and viciously tore into the shoe. I stood up, grasped the frame at the bottom of the bed, and yanked it away from the wall. Then, I quickly crawled onto the mattress and poked my head over the top, causing a pillow to fall into the space I’d just created. But no dog. “Hey—where’d you go?” I clambered off the bed and looked underneath. There it was. It had moved to the middle of the bed, still chowing down on the cloth shoe. “This does not end in your favor, Fido. You hear me?” I made my way into the kitchen, where I opened the fridge and pulled out what was sure to be the dog’s Achilles’ heel—leftover grilled chicken. I grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and filled one with water from the sink. Then, rethinking, I dumped it out and poured spring water from my jug. I set the bowls on the far side of the kitchen, away from the bedroom door. I tore off a piece of the chicken and walked into the bedroom. “Oh, doggy…can you smell what I have?” The sound of tags jingling promptly stopped, and I met its gaze under the bed. The dog’s eyes were wide as I held out the chicken. “Do you like food? A treat? A goodie?” Its tail wagged and it moved forward a few inches. “Let’s make a deal. You drop the shoe, and I’ll give you chicken.” The dog stopped, seeming to consider. It crawled forward a few more inches. I knew that if I tried to take the shoe now, the dog wouldn’t trust me. So I backed away, still holding the chicken. “Come on. I’ve got some yummy chicken for you. And some fresh, nummy water.” The dog crawled all the way out from under the bed, slowly wagging its tail. I continued to back away out the door, and the dog followed me, still holding the shoe. We made it across the kitchen before I put the chicken in the bowl and backed away again. Sure enough, the temptation of the chicken won the dog over, and it dropped the shoe and immediately gobbled up the chicken. I snatched up the tattered shoe, tucking it into my back pocket. I also took the opportunity to take a peek to see what kind of dog it was. “A p***s, but no balls. I’ll call you a boy. Like you’d care otherwise.” The dog finished the chicken, then moved to lap up some water. Then he looked to his right, then left, and spun in a circle, clearly searching for the shoe. He stopped and glared at me, accusation written in his chocolate brown eyes. “Told ya. I win. Now, let’s see about getting you home, shall we?” I gently held his collar, reading the tags. One was the license, with all the animal shelter information on it. On the other one, a bright blue name tag, it said, “Bark,” and listed a phone number. I frowned at the name, then at the dog. “Your name is Bark?” “Bark!” “What kind of person names a dog after the sound it makes?” I stared at Bark for a few more seconds, then retrieved my phone out of my pocket. “That’s like calling a cat Meow or a fish Gloop. I better find your owner. I hope they’re not as dumb as your name.” I dialed the number. It went straight to voicemail. So their phone was off. Huh. “Hi! This is Remy Webb with King High School. I’m sorry I’m unable to get to the phone, but please leave your name and number, and I’ll hit you back soon. Thanks.” I frowned. He said he was with King High School. So was I, and I’d never heard of him. “Hi, my name is Ash McGowan, and I have a little dog here that I believe is yours. He’s safe and everything, but we should probably get him home before he eats all my shoes.” I left my phone number. “I hope to hear from you soon. My apartment can’t have dogs, so the sooner we get him home, the better. Thanks.” I hung up and glanced at Bark. “Well, I made contact. Now I guess we just wait.” “Bark!” “Yep. More chicken?” I got more from the fridge and he hungrily gobbled it up, then turned, and drank more water. I poured myself a glass and downed it all. I sat on the floor, pulling Sean’s shoe from my pocket to assess the situation. It was damaged beyond repair. They were cloth shoes he’d worn as a relaxed sneaker. He had so many shoes. There were boots for style and boots for hiking, boots for winter, and boots for rain. There were dress shoes with a flat front and with a point, both in brown and black. He even had a pair of shiny white tuxedo shoes to go with the white tuxedo he’d worn on our wedding day. He’d worn white, and I’d worn black, simply because I didn’t want to be washed out with my fair skin and red hair. It had been a great day. Now, I smiled as I thought about it, but my thoughts were interrupted by the dog at my feet, gazing with hungry eyes at the shoe in my hand. “No. Not a toy. Now I have to throw away the other one. And they were expensive, too. I’m not going to punish you because you’re not mine to punish, but I’m very unhappy with you.” Bark tilted his head and his ears drooped. It’s as if he understood exactly what I was saying to him. “I mean, you didn’t know. So, it’s not like I’m really mad or angry. I’m just…upset.” Bark put his paw on my foot, then headbutted my leg. I sighed. “I’ll get over it. You’re too cute to be mad at. You probably never get into trouble at home, do you?” “Bark!” He seemed to perk up as I stood. “Yeah, I knew it.” I looked at the clock on the stove and saw it was almost four o’clock. I still needed to do the dishes, take out the garbage, and generally tidy up in the kitchen. As I went about doing the rest of my chores, Bark followed, laying at my feet as I stood in front of the sink. At six, I sank onto the sofa with a cherry soda and cheesy chips and turned on the television. I was going to watch all the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies this weekend. But I started with the Hobbit movies, to go in chronological order. A little way into the first movie, Bark jumped onto the sofa, curling up next to my leg and lying down. I was going to make him get off so I didn’t have a bunch of dog hair on my sofa, but I decided that he probably missed his real dad, and was just trying to take comfort in the closest person. I absentmindedly pet him as we watched Bilbo shout about going on an adventure. As the movie ended, I checked my phone again to see if Bark’s owner had called. No missed messages, no missed calls. “It’s been a few hours since you’ve been outside.” I contemplated Bark, who seemed to be intently watching the TV. “Do you want to go outside?” He perked up and jumped down, stretching with his butt in the air, and ambled to the door. I grabbed a plastic bag from my plastic bags bag in the kitchen, just in case he had to go number two. “You are such a smart dog. Yes, you are.” I realized I didn’t have a leash, but he seemed to mind pretty well when I called him to me. I let him into the yard, where he sniffed around like crazy, marking multiple spots, and finally pooping on Gretchen’s side, right by her rosebush. I was tempted to leave it but decided against it. When we went back inside, I gave him more chicken and water, and I got ready for bed. As I was brushing my teeth, I noticed Bark hadn’t followed me into the bathroom. I searched in the living room, then the bedroom, where I found him lying on the pillow on the left side of the bed. Sean’s side. I stared for a moment at this dog, now fast asleep, and felt an odd pull in my stomach. Maybe if the owner had moved and left him behind, I could keep him? I wondered if I could convince my landlord to let me have a dog. I’d pay a pet deposit and everything, though he seemed to be a very clean and well-behaved dog. I finished brushing my teeth and crawled into bed. As I lay down, Bark moved from the pillow and nosed his way under the blankets, lying by my side. “Goodnight, Bark.” I rolled over and felt him press against my back. His warmth was an amazing feeling after two years of being without anyone or anything to comfort me. If I tried hard enough, I could imagine it was Sean lying by my side one last time.