We were awoken by insistent pleas at the door. I slipped out of the bed, pulled a robe across my bare flesh and crossed the room, the bottoms of my feet delighting in the good money I’d spent on the rug. I opened the door and she shot through it, all wiggles and excitement. If she could have yelled “He’s here, he’s here!!!” she would have, but she was content to twitch around at the side of the bed, beseeching him with half-barks.
He pulled his head from the pillow and grinned. “Hi, Ellie…”
She went nuts. We’d only been together a short time, but already the dog was his. She didn’t have the commitment issues I did.
He rose to greet her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, laughing at her unconcealed glee. She wouldn’t even be still enough for a hello pat.
“Lay down, Ellie,” he commanded her. She would not be contained. He issued the command no less than three times, then began to grow frustrated. “LAY DOWN, Ellie.”
I laughed. “You have to do it properly, ” I told him, “Like this:”
And I turned to my right, where she watched with enthusiasm while we conversed. “Ellie, lie down.” She immediately went to her belly.
He looked up at me, squinting slightly. “You have a GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT dog? You’re an even bigger nerd than I realized.” And I let him tear into me for what must’ve been the first of a dozen times that day.
It turned out to be a spectacular weekend.
::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::
Someone got to my site the other day by Googlefying ‘why u should burn a love letter on a full moon‘. Good Lord. I feel like sometimes there is too much explaining in the world.
If you come back, letter-googler, here’s why:
Because it’s theatrical, sugar, and sometimes nothing satisfies like a good ole batch of theatrics. Also? I need you to start spelling out your words. This ‘u’ for ‘you’ shit has gone on for far too long.