020/2012 Dog Nights

Word Count: 469

“I’m a witch,” she said and she looked it. Gorgeous long black hair and a dress cut down to there. Huge lavender eyes with a corona of thick lashes; full, full garnet lips. At least that’s my version of witches.

She was walking her cat on a leash in the rain. New York is loaded with pets both pampered and trained to attack, but a cat on a leash is unusual and this one looked like a small panther and I was alone and looking for someone to talk to. Divorce does that; though you think you’re going to be fine, it’s the quiet of after the bustle of an office and a fast meal at a loud restaurant when the loneliness sinks like night into your mind.

“Nice cat,” I said. I’m less than brilliant.

“His name’s Hector,” she said. She stopped and smiled, those pouty red lips splitting open on perfect white teeth. “Mine’s Vivian.”

Vivian didn’t have an umbrella and the rain misted her face like dew on a petal. It never collected and rolled off, just hung there like a netting of diamonds catching the streetlamp light.

We went for coffee. We went back to her place. We made love as the mini-panther watched. I tried to do the right thing and pretended to like him, though I could tell he clearly did not like me.

“You named him after your ex-boyfriend?” I asked. She just grinned wide and nodded. I never asked again about Hector the guy and she didn’t offer much more.

Things go along so much better when you feel you’re in love. I saw Vivian almost every day after that. In a few months I found myself talking marriage, and I brought it up first.

Some women like mystery, like to keep a man guessing. I just wasn’t the curious type. I’ve learned to live in the present. I was anxious to let go of my past. Wasn’t interested in what her life was like before the rainy night we met on the street. She was elusive, never let me stay the whole night. I’d sneak out like a thief in the early gray morning. Hector was up on her bed before I’d closed the bedroom door.

She called me one day at work, something she’d never done before. Through the sniffles I heard her tell me Hector had been hit by a car. I cut out of work a bit early, raced over and held her tight. She let me stay over that night. And every night after.

I don’t like the leash but I don’t mind the collar. She feeds me caviar for treats, steak for dinner, and I’m not alone anymore. I’m Jason, her Golden Retriever, and she lets me sleep every night on her bed.