My Fake Fling

“Peppy!” Thea scolded.

“I don’t want to know,” I groaned.

“It’s his bed,” Thea assured me. “This happens more times than I care to admit. It’s a behavior we’re working on.”

We followed the trail of fluffy stuffing into the den. The other dog, Bryce, was calmly lying on my custom leather sofa. His head rested on the armrest with a puddle of drool streaking down the leather. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t say for sure, but I thought he might be apologizing. He hopped off the sofa and immediately walked to me.

“Hope you were comfortable,” I said and rubbed his head.

The dog’s tongue was always hanging out. He rubbed against me before standing in front of me and leaning hard enough to nearly knock me over. Thea was scolding the little dog like it was a toddler.

“I brought your toy basket,” Thea lectured. “You couldn’t just not eat your bed? Why must you do this? These aren’t cheap, Peppy. I’m going to make you sleep on the hard floor.”

As if to prove a point, the dog hopped onto the leather couch and sat watching her pick up his mess. It yipped once to nail the point.

“I’m going to order a pizza,” I said. “Should I get one for the dogs?”

I was being sarcastic, but clearly, that didn’t land well. “A cheese one. No garlic.”

I stared at her with disbelief, but she didn’t notice. She’d gone back to lecturing the dogs about proper manners. I shook my head and left the room. This was my life now. I was living with dogs.