The nameless little shit steals the wool balls straight out of my hands, thinking I’m here to play.
“Stop that. Sit!” I might as well be speaking gibberish. His tail wags as he bends on his front legs and sprints to the other side of the room, barking and jumping. “It’s late. We’re not playing, boy. Sit. Let me tidy up.” I gently tap his nose with the half-eaten shoe. “Don’t eat that. That’s not food.”
He doesn’t listen, busy chasing his own fucking tail. I should’ve done more research before buying a puppy.
My phone chimes on the coffee table.
Thalia: He’s cute. Don’t leave him alone, free to wander the house. Contain him to one room. What’s his name?
Me: at the moment, it’s ‘little shit.’ It’ll stick unless he starts behaving himself.
She sends back a laughing emoji, but the three dots keep flashing on the screen.
Thalia: Please let me be there when you’re chasing him down the beach screaming, “come here, little shit!”
I chuckle, the situation easy to imagine: Thalia and me enjoying a casual evening stroll down the beach with ice cream in hand when the dog runs off, and I chase after the idiot, yellinglittle shitat the top of my lungs.
Me: Point well made. How about “Dog”?
I open a bottle of Bud Light and throw myself on the couch, stretching to get comfortable. Little shit hops onto my stomach, knocking me out of breath. He’s a puppy, alright, eight weeks old, but he’s pretty heavy already. He curls himself into a ball, and I end up scratching his head, texting with Thalia. She makes a list of possible names, and before I know it, it’s almost fucking midnight.
???
Logan tees off at the first hole, sending the ball flying like he’s Happy Gilmore. We pause the round before the ball touches the ground when the sound of the fast-approaching cart breaks the peaceful Sunday three-past-noon afternoon.
Thalia leaps out from behind the wheel, hair in a massive bun on top of her head, loose strands spilling out and bouncing around her flushed face. “Hello, boys.” She rounds the cart and pops the caps on two Bud Lights when the four of us choirhi, helloandheyback. “I’d ask how the game is going, but you’ve just started, so I’ll ask this instead.” She glances at me, biting the inside of her lip to rein a smile. “Who’s driving?”
“No one,” I say, strolling closer to her, pushing my shades up on top of my head. “Jack dropped us off.”
“Oh, okay, in that case...” she takes a bottle of Corona from the cooler, handing it to Nico, but leaves my Bud Light beside her, inviting me to come and get it myself. “What did you do with Ares?”
Yeah... she named my dog after the Greek god of war. God of mischief would suit the little shit better, but the Greek god of mischief is a goddess, and even I’m not so cruel as to give my dog a girly name.
“Still wild,” I stop beside her, grab my beer and roll the cool glass bottle along my forehead. It must be a hundred degrees out here today. “I woke up to a toilet paper roll ripped to pieces in my bedroom. I think he does that shit on purpose. I locked him in the bathroom for now.”
“Ares?” Nico hands Thalia a hundred to cover the round and her tip. “Grab us four bottles of water. Coldest you have,” he nudges me with his elbow when Thalia opens the cooler. “You named your dogAres?What happened tolittle shit?”
“It was Thalia’s idea, but the jury, namely the triplets and I, is still out. If he pees somewhere again, it will belittle shit.”
Thalia throws a bottle around for everyone to catch, then retrieves a gift bag from the passenger seat of the cart. “This should keep Ares occupied when you’re not home.” She pulls out an orange rubber ball and two bags of dog treats. “It’s a chew toy and a treat dispenser in one.” She rips one of the packets, showing me where to insert the treats. “It’s not easy to take them out, so he’ll have to work for it.”
My brothers’ scorching gazes burn holes at the back of my skull, but I ignore the three of them when Thalia tries to hand over the toy. “Thanks, but you’ll have to give him that yourself or he’ll think I’m nice. Can’t have that. He’ll walk all over me if he senses weakness.”
I don’t add that he already walks all over me.
The little shit.
Yep,Aresprobably won’t stick.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t want toemasculateyou.”
“See? You’re catching on. You got time to meet him tonight? Maybe I could pick your brain about the game while you spoil my dog.”
“No, sorry.” She drops the toy back into the bag. “I’m waitressing tonight. Tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. I’ll call you.”
One smile, onebeepof the cart, and she’s gone, on her way to the next group of golfers.