097/100 aka 137/365

GUS THE AMAZING TALKING DOG
Word Count: 512

He said that he just wanted to get out of the business. That years of hoofing it across the U.S. and Europe in two-bit shows and dark-holed clubs was enough. That the last attempt to revive the act on America’s Got Talent was a flop and for him, that was a sign. So he and his partner Moe had split up amicably enough and all he wanted now was early retirement where he could enjoy nature.

So I agreed to at least go for the trial thirty-day guarantee and took Gus The Amazing Talking Dog home with me that day.

“I said a puppy!” my wife grumbled.

“An older dog’s better,” I said, “no housebreaking, no chewing up the furniture.”

‘‘And I don’t bark or bite and I’m good for holding it all day,” Gus added.

She relented when I told her there was a thirty-day trial period and aside from the normal getting used to each other, it was a fairly quiet night.

About a week later things had smoothed into a routine that worked for us all. Gus slept inside all day and stayed up late with me and watched the eleven o’clock news before going to bed.

“May I ask you something?” he said during a commercial.

“Sure,” I said.

“Would you mind if I slept in the den instead of the kitchen?”

“What’s wrong with the kitchen?”

“Well the clock ticks, the digital clocks are annoying, and the streetlight makes it hard to sleep.”

“Oh. But the hair…”

“I’ll stay in the bed. It doesn’t protect my old bones from the cold tile floor but it’d be fine on the rug in the den. And I’m sure there I’d sleep right through the night.”

Thirty days went by quickly and to tell you the truth, I was still flip-flopping about whether Gus should stay. He seemed to follow my wife around like a puppy and had convinced her to let him sleep upstairs with us in our bedroom. It made me a bit uncomfortable during sex. It made me very uncomfortable during sex.

“But he’ll get lonely,” my wife whined.

“We’ll get another dog as a companion,” I said.

“Why do I have to sleep downstairs?” Gus complained.

This time I was looking for a puppy, something to tire old Gus out so he couldn’t make the stairs. But they said it’d be too hard on him and an older dog would be a better companion. The very instant I brought him into the house the two dogs didn’t like each other. Hair raised, low-throated growls, a couple snaps at the food bowls.

“They don’t get along,” my wife insisted.

“But having Gus stay downstairs at night was the whole point of getting another dog,” I whined.

Gus just managed to look sad and shiver until she led him up the stairs. I sighed and sat down to watch the news.

“So he told you it was because of the act? Hah! It was because he was porkin’ my wife!” said Moe.