Once in a while, the first draft of a short story works.

These are the stories you start and finish in one sitting. They usually need a second and maybe a third draft before they are ready to submit.

Please understand that this rarely happens.

When short stories are quickly written in one go, I do a happy dance. Ask my dogs. Speaking of dogs, I have posted a story inspired by my dog, Charley. He helped me write  this story when I received the rejection that broke the writer’s back.

I said to him, “Okay, Char. Let’s write something I’d never write!” I looked at him and he blinked a few times before he started trembling uncontrollably. We brainstormed all the disgusting habits a dog can have, listed dog idioms and the story sort of wrote itself. It was a breakthrough.–I burst write out of my comfort zone.

I’d never written such a twisted story before. I haven’t looked back. Thank, Char. Good boy!

Hey, Mom–just close your eyes at the end. It might disturb you. You can read it here https://issuu.com/soliloquiesanthology/docs/soliloquies_20-2 on page 31–also read the other stories because they are excellent– or just keep reading it here:

Just Toss Me a Bone, Woman!

I sense the change in my relationship with Dom as soon as she walks in on me gnawing at the crotch of her favourite black-laced panties. I shrink back, trembling at the thought that she might yell obscenities at me or throw me out for the last time. I cower between the bed and wall, pretending to be invisible.

“Maaa-aaaxxx! Where are you?” Dom calls. I ignore her, hoping she hasn’t heard me voice my delight as I slurped up her sweet honey juices.

The blissful coconut lime conditioner precedes her entrance. Judging from the flip-flapping of her feet, she’s wearing her fuzzy bunny slippers. As she approaches this side of the bed I hear droplets of water plop onto the floor. This must mean she’s going out. Elation, moments ago, is replaced by fear; now fear is losing ground to a mixture of jealousy and abandonment. She’s always coming up with excuses, lately, to leave me behind and mind the house.

Dom shrieks. She holds up the soggy panties, the half-eaten crotch yawning like an unhinged trapdoor, and points at the bedroom door. “Get out!” Dom shrieks, “You’d better think about what you’ve done. Again!” She yanks off one fluffy bunny and it thuds against my skull. “Know that you’ve sniffed your last pair of panties, Mister,” she says this last phrase rather calmly, which scares me more than the screaming. Dom practically picks me up and tosses me out the back door.

“I guess it’s the doghouse for me, again.” I tell no one in particular. She’s already slammed the door in my face. She used to find my antics endearing.

“Come on woman! You could toss me a bone just this one last time!” I whine and pound on the door. It’s out here.

“Shut up!” The words are hurled at me from neighbouring houses, but Dom is giving me the silent treatment. I keep begging her to let me in, but the door does not open. She’s beyond caring what the neighbours think. She must be even angrier than I’d assumed. There’ll be no reprieve tonight.

As I slink away, I hang my head in shame and silently vow to gain a modicum of self-control. Although I could go anywhere tonight, I remain faithful. I’ve never loved another. Part of me wishes Dom had humiliated me more; I’ve heard of what can happen once the dominant partner grows weary of her submissive.

I gaze up at the cloud-filled sky in search of Sirius, the star pattern that’s become my comfort in times like these, but nothing shines through the cloud cover. I inhale the ozone-infused air and dodge puddles as I cross the street to the dense foliage of the neighbour’s so I can keep watch of our house. I’ve fallen asleep in the neighbour’s bushes when I hear the distinct rev of Dom’s car. She squeals the tires just a little as she shifts from reverse to first gear. I love that she is a risk-taker. I love that she dares to be bold in her softness.

I creep towards the deck and settle on the outdoor settee, almost certain she won’t be home until mid-morning. It’s Friday night and Dom had been saving those panties for a special someone. I feel so glum, but I refuse to believe our relationship has gone to the dogs.

***

The sun wakes me as it blazes fiercely upon my face. It’s going to be a scorcher, and I’ve got a major case of cottonmouth. I squint my eyes against the powerful rays and try to focus in on the driveway; my heart sinks.

I trot back to the bushes across the street I used as a lookout last night. I’m a little pissed at her, I realize as I take a whizz, so I decide to go wherever the day takes me. I need some grub and a drink. They’re usually generous with me over at The Oriental Palace. The old Asian man who guards the alley has a naughty Chinese hairless crested named Nao Nao. She is so hideous she pleases me. Sometimes he lets me take her to play in the park.

He’s out there, holding a cigarette against his twisted yellowy-brown teeth. As soon as he sees me, he motions for me to come with his knobby, yellowed fingers. He speaks to me in his language and I speak in mine. Neither understands the exact words of the other, but I realize he is in need of friendly company. We speak through our eyes and our bodies as we sit out there, in the alley. I smell day-old eggrolls in the bag next to him. He reaches in and offers me one. I am so happy I can’t help but do a little dance for the old man. This makes him laugh, which exposes his blackened gums and dangling molars.

Nao Nao is nowhere to be seen. I have a sudden recollection of the smell I had noticed coming off of her skin the last time I came around. But I really can’t say how long ago it was. She must have been ill. The glumness returns as I sit next to the old man. I let him wrap his arms around me as he weeps for Nao Nao.

I feel a whimper growing at the back of my throat, knowing I can no longer return to The Oriental Palace. He will either grow too needy because I remind him of her, or I will cause him nothing but pain for the same reason. I memorize the weight of his soothing hand on my shoulder.

I gobble up the bowl of food and drink that he has offered before I sing for him. We negotiated a song and dance in exchange for a meal since the first time we met in the alley. Today I sing him an improvised song of sorrow with the most solemn of interpretive dances in my repertoire. Then, exhausted by emotional exertion, I stagger down the alley, towards the park where Nao Nao and I used to play. I venture towards the sandbox she loved to shit in. I plop onto the ground and force myself to keep the howling trapped at the back of my throat.

The sweet smell of flowers quickly becomes cloying. It’s time to move on. The sun has grown ferocious. The dragonflies’ wings become diaphanous. A kaleidoscope of silvery Boisduval’s Blue butterflies flits above an ornamental sage bush. I can’t help but chase them. In my younger days I avidly chased and recorded descriptions of prairie butterflies. I was a birdwatcher. I used to swim in rivers and ponds, as free as a bird, but Dom’s always had me on such a short leash. My hobbies and my adventuring have pretty much spluttered to a halt since we met.

As I run with the wind, I am reconciled with freedom. I feel the unbinding of long-forgotten muscles, a reunion with the wind. It caresses my hair and whistles in my ears.

***

Nothing looks familiar, but the sun is still searing and my ears have been picking up on a multitude of birdsongs. It seems as though I am the only one paying attention to the crescendos in their love songs and to the sounds of their lovemaking. Passersby look at glowing screens and seem to talk to themselves as they hurry along the sidewalk, completely ignorant of the beauty they are bypassing.

I find a freshly mown, sun-dappled patch of lawn. It becomes my mezzanine to nature’s cathedral. I sense the worms and ants scurrying below me, so self-sufficient they reproduce alone. The squirrels are yipping dementedly in the trees above, with their tails upright and oscillating in synchronization with each bark as they try to lure a mate. I hear feral cats groaning as they copulate in the alleys nearby. It truly is a love fest in the animal kingdom.

I lie here, in the middle of it all, feeling so moved, so impassioned, and yet so removed from my own natural tendencies.

“She’s truly neutered me,” I lament to the ants and the squirrels. A sob escapes from the back of my throat. For a moment nature ceases procreation, in tribute to my loss.

I hang my head again. It’s time to move on.

***

Dom and I used to walk by the river on afternoons like this. No matter where I am in the city, I can always smell my way towards the river. Dom found this innate sense of direction strange in the beginning. At first, Dom said I had overabundant energy and would joke that it was a good thing she was still a woman in her prime.

I wonder if she’s grown impatient with me over the years because this tendency to be over-zealous hasn’t dissipated, as her friends assured her it would. Recently, when I’ve begged her to walk with me, she doesn’t seem the least bit interested.

Soon enough, the rustle of the river is a few bounds away. I will have no problem finding my way back home. I’ve decided I will do whatever it takes to win back her love: I will listen better, I will not make a mess anymore, I will be loving and attentive and less hyper. Most importantly, I will forgive her for the new man and hope it ends before I feel threatened enough to intervene.

***

Dom’s been bringing him home every few days. Some nights she’s out until all hours. When she sneaks back in, I pretend to be asleep, but then I spend the rest of the day moping and giving her the cold shoulder. This usually makes her feel guilty and she lets me back into her bed. It makes me sorrowful, knowing I’m allowed to cuddle up to her voluptuous ass because of her infidelities. Sometimes, when I snore too loudly or fart in my sleep, Dom elbows me or sends me to sleep in the den, but other times she rolls over and I get to be the little spoon. These days, she nuzzles her chin into my neck, drapes her hand on my chest, kisses my forehead and whispers words of endearment into my alert ear. In the morning she smiles at me, like she used to, and ruffles my hair. Dom plucks at the stray hairs I’ve shed on the sheets as she tells me about her plans for the day.

This is enough to get me through the days of neglect that follow. The pattern becomes predictable quickly. She makes an effort not to leave her soiled clothing on the floor and I no longer go into her room uninvited. I learn to accept that this is how things are going to be between us for now.

It’s a lazy afternoon, after several of these blissful evenings strung together. I’ve been pampered by her love and it feels wonderful. This morning Dom scrubbed my back in the tub and clipped my nails for me. I’ve missed her good grooming habits.

But, in the time it takes for the doorbell to stop chiming, I go from being her prized pet to a mere annoyance. It’s so hard for me to switch gears so quickly; I can’t help feeling territorial. I’d let myself become deluded that she’d ended things with my rival. That she’d come back to me whole-heartedly. That she’d noticed I’ve been training in the yard, running laps to burn off the energy. I’ve even gained control over my underwear fetish.

But no, they decide to make out right in front of me. He lifts Dom’s summery dress over her head and unhooks her bra. His t-shirt flies over the back of the couch and lands at my feet. I get twitchy. Dom’s acting like a bitch in heat. They don’t care that I’m in the room, or they’re too caught up in the heat of the moment. Maybe my drab clothing blends in with the furniture. His jeans go flying. All I see is a lot of peachy skin and I dry heave when I see he’s even hairier than I am.

I’ve had enough with being a good boy; it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there.

I lunge at his dangling testicles (why should he be able to flaunt them in my face like that?) when he flings Dom’s red lace panties towards me. I arch my back, mid-lunge, and snatch up the glorious unmentionables. As I tumble to the floor and start licking at the heavenly smell of her crotch, I realize that this is the prize I’ve really been wanting all along.

Dom groans, he moans and I howl in delight. It’s one collective orgasm about to happen.