My Better Half With Fur

My Better Half With Fur

Bad news.
Bad day in general and worse yet
I'll be home alone .
Alone with my thoughts.
Door open, keys in hand , I see it.

He is running through an expanse of
white fluff as far as the eye can see.
"It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"
I hear him panting from across the room.

I drop the keys in the metal bowl.
He spins around then freezes in time.
If I don't move she can't see me.
Oh crap, she saw me.

While I clean his unbelieveable path
of chaos and mayhem
left in his tiny wake, he retreats.

Foiled again!
He backs away in flashes of fur with
paper snow swirling behind.

The usual half-hearted chidings
seem only to delight and inspire him
as he stands amidst piles of shredded
papers that held my recent creations.

He is all wire haired, naughty , and rakish.
No use fretting, clean it up.
He watches , supervising.
"This is fun!",  his face seems to say.

"Bad boy !"
I address him sternly.
He sniffs as if to inhale his lost dignity.
No use mister.
You're delightfully hopeless.


Paper is evil and must be destroyed
according to his mentality.
He has saved me.
Order regained for the moment.
Coffee in hand I position myself.

Electronic is safer than paper.
The unromantic and ugly machine awaits
to accept my innermost private thoughts.
Virtual memory offers infinite possibilities
but lacks the tactile satisfaction of paper.
Paper- food of the canine gods.

Though not required at the moment,
I find myself holding my favorite pen.
I hold it in one hand and tap it
on the fingertips of the other like a magic wand.

His eyes grow wide with anticipation and promise.
"May I have that special thingy you have there ?" ,
his eyes convey to me.
I pretend not to notice.

Awww!, Are you frustrated that you can no longer
injest my words now here in cyberspace?
Will you chew on the cords to the PC
and send volts into your furry little body
that will either kill you or make an invincible mutant?
Not if you value your fur-covered hide buddy.

As I am lost in choices of where to begin
a familiar "hrrrumph!" sounds at my feet.
I look down and he picks up the trade
he offers for my shiny favorite pen.
He sits stiff and formal with his trade offering
like some Indian Chief.

The trade offer a long-lost satin slipper now spit-laden.
How thoughtfull of him .
Giving me a present
on a day such as this.
He always knows how to treat a lady.

No Chief Teddy Delaware! (His Name)
It take-em much more wompum buddy.
No Trade! No trade!
Me give-em dog biscuit. Go away.

Placing him on my lap he settles now.
He watches as buttons are pressed and
movement happens on the magic box.
He is lulled into slumber.
The tapping of keys a lullaby to him.

Progress, more progress.
Paper-less is liberating.
The sun is dappling on his face now
as the day is turning to evening.

He stretches and falls onto the floor.
"What the heck was that for?", his look says.
"payback ", my eyes say to him.
I hear his belly growl in hunger.

He waits for me to complete my work.
Chosing not to dine alone
on his favorite gravied concoction.

Another hour has passed.
Stretching , he copycats.
Sushi and tea from the icebox
now ginger-wonderfull on my tongue.

"Hrrrummph!"
Crab and rice presents falls to him below.
He eats with rice-studded chin.
He pauses often to give me
heartfelt side glances with loving eyes
that say, "Who loves you baby?"

You do.
I smile and we eat our victory dinner.
Another day lived through together.
He finishes off his meal with
a resounding canine wind from hell.

"Yuck! What did you do ?"
He runs around the perimeter
of the room in victory.
Just wait buddy. Just wait.

Kimarie Freeman
July 1 , 2009