Rocket
Eight Years Later
T his walk is longer. We've been going to the same building for years, but now, we're walking farther to a bigger building I don't recognize. We never go out this far.
People run all around me. Some kick off from skateboards. They all laugh and step around us. Somebody pats my head, which feels good, and I recognize him as the guy who watches TV with Little Girl sometimes, grinning and laughing together. But Little Girl isn't laughing much right now. She stands beside me, her fist clenched around my leash as she bites her lip. Something about this building isn't sitting right with her. The thumping inside her is pretty fast and loud.
Funny Guy walks up beside her. He says something that has her punching his shoulder. I nudge her leg because when she pets me, the thumping inside her always slows down a bit and she seems to smile more. But Funny Guy says something snippier—he always does that—and she erupts into giggles.
If I can't help her, he normally does. We're a team like that.
Little Girl transfers my leash into Funny Guy's fist, then bends down to pet my head again. I don't make out much, but the words good boy make sense, and that makes me happy because that means I did what she needed and I get more pets.
I am a good boy.
Funny Guy looks down at me and raises his eyebrows. He's got that funny look about him— typical —where his eyes are rimmed in red. He mumbles something to me, and I think I make out home , which is good because I'm really tired and I'd like to lie down. The walk was long today. I guess this is where Little Girl will be during the day now instead of that other building. I wonder if it's because she's getting taller. A lot of changes are happening because of that.
Little Girl and I stay in her den more often. She likes talking into some box a lot, which means she pets me for a long time, and I don't mind that. Though, sometimes, she picks up sticks with fur on the bottom and spreads sticky stuff over a paper. The first time I tried to lick it, she told me not to do it again, so I haven't. She spreads the sticky stuff a lot now, and the papers are all over the walls. Funny Guy says it's art .
Sometimes, I go to the other den and lie down when she's doing art since she doesn't like me walking on it. That den smells like Sassy Girl, even though she doesn't live with us anymore. One time, she came back for a while, and we all went to the park, where Sassy Girl stood in a big white dress and said some words to someone else. Then, they mashed their faces together and ran away. I don't know who they thought they were hiding from because we all watched it happen, then saw them a few minutes later with food and music. I don't question their weird rituals.
We're getting closer to home . I sniff my usual spots, making sure nothing new is happening or someone new isn't here. Some people come and go, but usually, home smells like food and her .
Funny Guy walks me through the grass and up the stairs. When he unhooks me from my leash, I take a right through the door with the food smell.
Then, I see her.
My Girl.
It always feels like I'm gone from her too long.
Right now, she's flipping through papers at the kitchen table. She does that a lot, and sometimes, if I see her do it too much, I'll nudge her so she can go outside with me instead. But she's already standing, which is good because I don't have enough energy to nip at her heels today.
Funny Guy walks in after me. He always wraps his arms around My Girl. It's the first thing he does, holding and holding until, finally, they mash faces. Sometimes, they mash faces for so long that I get bored and go to another room, where someone else will pet me. But today, they stop pretty quickly, so that's nice.
They walk outside again to the swaying seat and sit down. I wait for it to steady before jumping up between them and burying my nose into My Girl's lap. She always smells better than anyone else.
Years ago, there was some extra thumping in her that made me really uncomfortable. I was scared she was sick or something. But then, one day, it stopped, and that same thumping rhythm came from some raised bed in My Girl's den. The wriggling thing in there smelled like My Girl and looked a little like Funny Guy, so I figured this New Guy wasn't a safety risk. Plus, he giggles like Little Girl used to, and I love that sound. Now that New Guy is bigger, sometimes, he chases me. It's fun for a bit, and I wish I could play longer, but running gets me a little out of breath nowadays. I much prefer sitting on the porch, especially with these two.
Funny Guy says stuff that makes My Girl laugh, and I love it when she laughs. When I first met her, she didn't laugh at all. She was really quiet. There was some other person with her, but he left, and I barely remember him now. All I know is that I took care of her, and she took care of me, and now, we sit outside every day and are happy, and that's really great.
As long as I have My Girl and as long as Funny Guy makes her laugh, I can't complain.
Not one bit.
THE END