But I'm Not Supposed To Be a Dog!

- 9 -

Abby looked up from her computer. Was that the toilet flushing?

She looked in the direction of the bathroom in time to see Henry walking out of it. Did Henry just flush the toilet? The thought was preposterous, but no one else was here, and she certainly didn't flush the toilet from her desk by accident.

She went to investigate.

Abby stood in the doorway of the bathroom and flicked on the light. She could immediately smell urine. Shiny, yellow spots spattered the toilet seat, tank, and even the wall. Yellow puddles randomly spotted the floor. What in the world happened in here? It was as if someone had turned on a pee sprinkler in her bathroom. What a mess.

Abby grumbled with irritation. She was in the middle of an important scene, one that she had great ideas for. Ideas that didn't involve urine.

She glared about the room, looking for Henry, and found him sitting next to his bone, watching her.

"Did you do this?" she demanded, pointing at the toilet. "What am I saying? Of course you did. Who else could have? It sure as heck wasn't me!"

He laid down and began gnawing on his bone with utmost innocence. She narrowed her eyes at him and then looked back at the mess. She couldn't very well tell him to clean it up.

Could she? He was pretty smart.

She supposed it was her fault. When the ideas flowed, she couldn't stop. Stopping meant halting the flow, and there was never a guarantee that it would come back. Writing was an erratic profession. When it was on, it gushed, and time flew. But when it was off, it was like constipation.

Abby wrinkled her nose. She needed to stop with the bathroom metaphors. Or were they similes? Yes, definitely similes.

She glanced at the clock, and guilt replaced her irritation. She felt bad for Henry now, making him hold it for so long. But did he really flush the toilet?

Sarah McLachlan never warned her about how messy dogs could be, Abby mused as she disinfected her bathroom. Neither had her friend, Rhonda. Still, she had never heard of any dog as amazing as Henry.

To combat the guilt, she took him out for an extra long walk at the park. She circled the sizable grounds twice at a rapid pace, despite the growing complaints from her wimpy legs.

"Not bad for a sedentary shut-in, right boy?" she wheezed in between breaths. Writers were certainly not known for their robust physical attributes.

Henry still showed no signs of tiring. He stopped to sniff yet another tree, and Abby was grateful for the respite. She contemplated a kite that was floating up and down in the breeze. Should she go around a third time? He could use the exercise. So could she, for that matter.

"That is a beautiful dog." A deep voice startled her.

She turned around and found an athletic, dark-haired man talking to her. He wore a faded t-shirt that was damp with sweat and a pair of blue running shorts that showed off his muscled thighs. She gulped, dragged her eyes back to his face, and replied, "Yes he is! I just adopted him from the shelter."

He smiled. "Then he is handsome and lucky! May I pet him?"

"I guess. I'm not sure how he is around strangers yet." Abby suddenly worried that Henry might lunge at him and rip his throat out. Or maybe claw his eyes out. Or drool on him. Drool would be okay.

The man knelt down and held his hand out for Henry to smell. Henry sniffed it briefly, then turned his entire body so he was no longer facing the man. He instead watched a soccer ball being kicked around, completely uninterested in his new admirer. The man stroked Henry's back a couple of times, then stood up. "I'm Daniel."

Abby blinked for a second, then extended her hand to shake his. "I'm Abby, and this is Henry."

Ooh, Abby met a MAN! Henry better watch out. I always appreciate all your votes. Thank you!