Red escorted me to the back door and I let him out.
His barking started immediately as he dashed off in pursuit of an
intruder. Well, since I was up, I might as well make coffee.
I had pressed the button to start brewing when I
heard movement from Ken's bedroom before the door opened. I was
surprised he hadn't gone to Janey's last night. “Morning Ken,” I
greeted, as he shuffled toward the bathroom.
“Hrmffff,” Ken stated. I'm not sure what that meant,
except potentially a lobbying phrase to indicate he needed the
first cup more than I did.
“And a hrmffff, back atcha,” I called out pleasantly
to his retreating back. There were three possibilities as far as I
saw it. One, Ken had a hangover. Poor boy. Two, Janey's period
started and she told him she wanted space. Poor girl. Three, they
had a fight. Poor me.
I placed an extra cup on the counter for Ken. No
matter the option choice, life always improves with coffee. I heard
the toilet flush and the sink spigots turn shortly before my
zombified roommate shuffled his way back to his room, closing the
door behind him without saying a word to me.
Mmm, the odds tipped heavily in favor of
hangover.
The door to his room opened again, and another
shuffle to the bathroom. I made a wild guess, “Morning, Janey.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled back to me, undaunted in her
quest for bladder relief, or was it a purge? Evidently, there was
an option four. Poor them.
Aspirin would be needed for my two best buds. I
poured two small glasses of orange juice and waited in the hall
with OJ and pills in hand. As my undead friend started to shuffle
by me, I said, “Halt. Take aspirin. Take juice.” Once my
instructions were followed, I held out the other juice and aspirin.
“Take these to your partner in crime and make sure he ingests
them.”
I received another, “Whatever,” in response (yes, I
use the term “response” somewhat tongue-in-cheekily) before the
walking husk of my friend disappeared into the depths of Ken's man
cave. The door closed behind her with a soft 'click.'
I chuckled evilly, ha! That will teach them to take
part in sabotaging my date. But, I admit, it was very well done,
especially the part of the plot when Bas had David drive him home
(okay, hotel—whatever) to ensure he didn't sleep over. My mouth
tilted up in a grin. I
do
admire a well-executed plan.
My eyes narrowed dangerously as I considered this
further. At what point did my friends consider my moral code
wavered to allow me to sleep with a man on the first date? Okay, so
I spouted a bit of bravado at Cat about picking up some guy at
dinner. Even if
Bas
thought I might actually do something
like that, despite our revealing conversation yesterday, I expected
Ken and Janey to know better. I glared what I hoped were daggers at
their closed door. Thanks for the vote of confidence, pals.
It was another hour, and coincidentally three cups of
coffee later, when the door to Ken's room opened again. I was on
the couch, out of view of the bedroom doorway, so I raised my voice
to call out, “Greetings, you have landed on planet Earth. There is
no intelligent life here, but we do have coffee.”
Janey recovered enough to snicker and I heard her
footsteps pad to the kitchen where she poured herself a cup. “Are
we expecting Ken anytime soon?” I asked with a smile. “And if you
say ‘whatever’ to me again, I will be forced to turn the TV on and
play the Accordion Music Channel at top volume.”
“Oh no, anything but that. I can't imagine adding
squeeze-box to the percussion already going on in my brain,” she
protested. “You know you used to be nicer. Threatening me with
accordion music is cruel.”
“Yeah, speaking of cruel friends... what's with the
date intervention last night? I can see Bas might think I'd be
ho-ing around, but you two should know better.”
“It seemed the lesser of the two evils. Bas was
determined to hang out on your front porch to make sure you got
home at a decent hour. He didn’t say so explicitly, but I'm sure he
didn't trust you not to succumb to David's sexy good looks. I mean,
come on, the man is a god!”
A god? Really? I stared in her direction with, what I
hoped was, a bland expression. “Well, Janey. You know how good
looks are so important to me, seeing as how I'm so superficial and
not to mention,
blind
. Yep, a pretty face and fluttering
eyelashes roll me onto my back every time.”
The silence was deafening. “Well, when you put it
that way, it does seem pretty idiotic, doesn't it,” Ken said from
the hallway. “But Bas was being an ass about it, so we decided to
play poker so you wouldn’t come home to an angry man on the
doorstep.”
I couldn't help myself. “Red came up with the term
Bas-hole,” I shared. We all enjoyed a joke at Bastian's
expense.
“So, David's a god?” I mused, hinting for a few more
details. “Weird, I never thought to ask him what he looks like. His
manner and attitude are attractive. I think his voice is sexy. And
damn, if I scored him on kissing alone, he'd be a 10.”
“Oh honey, when I said you were in trouble, I was
scoring the complete package.” At that Ken cleared his throat,
causing Janey to amend. ”Well, minus the kissing. He's a 12. He
gets extra credit for his body alone. He's an inch taller than Bas,
maybe two. Lean like a runner, with corded muscles, not the
bodybuilder physique my brother has. Dark brown hair, his eyes are
hazel, maybe a touch toward the green-side. His other extra credit
point goes to his smile. Generous, a little shy... well, until he
looks at you, then there's a little hint of the devil in there,
too.”
Janey sighed, heavily, “I should probably give
another bonus point for the way he walks. He's got this gliding
roll-action which makes a woman simply wanna watch his hips move.”
Her voice was almost purring, as she added, “He’s got this lazy,
sexy stride; like he has all the time in the world to get where
he’s going. It makes a woman wonder if that’s how he approaches
sex.”
“Errr, boyfriend. Standing right here,” Ken
interjected, although his tone made it obvious he was not truly
upset his main squeeze was intimately describing another man in his
presence.
“Ha! Four days ago you would have totally done him,”
Janey teased.
“True,” Ken conceded, solemnly. “But, I've had the
love of a good woman to set me on the proper path, away from the
dark side. You have my solemn promise: I will never look at another
man.”
“Whatever,” Janey snorted, half-laughing. “Is Red
still sleeping?” she asked, correctly deciding it was better to
change the subject than listen to Ken's drivel.
“No, he's the reason I was up by six this morning,” I
replied. “He wanted to go outside to defend the yard from an
encroaching cat problem.
“Which reminds me. Ken, can you see what needs to be
done to put a dog door in? Maybe one of those glass panels that fit
on the sliders? It would be nice if Red could let himself in and
out, and there should be no problems with the six foot fences we
have.”
“You do know there will come a point when he can
clear that height if he wants to, right?” Janey asked me.
“Especially, since he can get such a good running start across the
lawn.”
“I suppose I can make up a story about an anonymous
male dog who tried to clear a tall fence and lost his nuts when
they got caught in the links. He seems to prize his boy bits, so
that
might make him think twice.”
“Oh man, that's wrong.” I could hear the cringe in
Ken's voice.
“It’s the off-the-cuff stories you can make up which
cause me to worship at the shrine of your devious nature,” Janey
said in awe. “I find it truly scary you can keep a straight face
when you say stuff like that.”
“It’s a gift,” I replied humbly. “Although, Red can
probably tell if I'm lying. I’ll have to say it casually, when the
air is already fragrant with bullshit. More than likely, I will
tell him straight up if he jumps the fence I'll have to kennel him.
He is a dog and has a dog's instincts, but he has a level of
awareness which seems to be above normal.”
“Well, be sure to mention no chasing deer either.”
Ken warned. “The deer can easily clear your fences, and you don't
want him chasing game.”
“Speaking of Red, Ken, would you mind checking to see
if he's ready to come in yet? All his plotting has probably made
him hungry,” I predicted.
Red dashed through the back door, heading straight
for the water dish. He must have slurped up water for a good twenty
seconds before he came in to the living room to lie down at my
feet. “Hey buddy, how's the cat eradication going?”
“
The cat was there, as I suspected,”
he
grumbled.
“I also caught some other scents by the water, but I
don't know what they are called.”
“Although a screen covers the shallow end, this time
of year we have a lot of animals coming down to drink at the pond.
It could have been raccoon, duck, deer, turkey, squirrel, or skunk.
Oh, gosh, please tell me you know what a skunk is and you know to
stay away from them!”
“
Not bird smells. I know deer, and they weren’t
what I smelled. Squirrels are the small animals that run across the
top of the wooden fence, right?”
Red referred to a section of
the fence at the side yard, between the house and the garage,
consisting of wood panels.
Ken confirmed the squirrels used the fence tops,
adding, “They’re the little animals who like to climb the bird
feeders and steal seeds.” We then explained the difference between
raccoons and skunks.
“Both raccoon and skunk can be mean and aggressive,
especially if they have babies.” After a moment’s thought, I added,
“If you smell a skunk, please don't get close enough for it to
spray you. The smell is horrible and it would take weeks to get rid
of the odor from your coat. I wouldn't be able to take you
anywhere. You would be forced to stay outside until it faded.”
Janey emphasized, solemnly, “People find it really
offensive so we'd avoid you for a while, and I doubt dogs like it
much better. It is so strong an odor, you might have problems
smelling other stuff.”
“
Maybe a skunk will spray the cat next door. That
will keep it out of my yard,”
Red said.
“We need to make a
cat trap.”
“Absolutely not! No cat traps. You can chase it and
you can bark at it, but I will not help you trap it. What would you
do if you caught it anyway? You'd have nothing to complain about
and your life would be boring,” I reasoned.
Red was silent, possibly pouting about the inequality
of dogs not having prehensile toes to enable the making of cat
traps? I can only wonder.
I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the morning with my
friends.
Ken and Janey left for the day, so I was home alone
with Red when Bas arrived for our afternoon picnic. Still balking
at the idea of calling it a date, in my mind I was spending time
with him so we could develop a friendship, not to check each other
out as potential bed mates. I was aware of Bastian's intentions,
and his hopes of changing my mind, but I felt I had made my
position clear.
When I opened the door to his knock, three sharp
raps, Red was beside me. He stepped forward to get his head
scratched, and his ears ruffled, but didn't get all excited like he
had when David came to visit. Perhaps an expression of preference?
Or, possibly his way of presenting a united front, in light of my
earlier explanation of what happened in Janey’s vehicle the prior
day? Regardless, it was nice to feel him at my side.
“You look nice,” he complimented me, stepping closer
to brush my hair off my cheek. He cupped my jaw in a warm palm,
leaning in for a soft kiss hello, before respectfully retreating
out of my personal space.
“Hi Bastian. Red and I have been in the backyard
playing fetch, and enjoying the sun. It’s a beautiful day for a
picnic; I think this was a great suggestion.” I stepped forward to
give him a quick hug. “Ken left our lunch on the counter. Would you
mind grabbing it while I get Red harnessed up?”
“No problem,” he answered, hand caressing my face as
he stepped past me toward the kitchen. I could hear him unzip the
insulated bag containing our food, probably checking for drinks,
silverware, or something along those lines. “There's enough food in
here to feed half a dozen people,” he told me.
“You're the size of a small country, Bas; maybe Ken
thinks you have a large appetite. He probably added a portion of
unseasoned chicken for Red, and enough for a snack if we stay at
the park for longer than planned.” One of Ken's best qualities is
he's pretty good at anticipating what might be needed.
Bas made a non-committal grunt and presumably hefted
the bag off the counter. Red was strapped up and ready to go. I
grabbed my backpack, which I had repacked with additional water for
Red. Bas offered to carry the pack as I shrugged into one of the
shoulder straps for the short walk to his rented SUV. “It’s not
heavy. Most of the stuff is Red's, though I should look into
getting saddlebags so he can carry his own weight.”