Too Much : Chapter 8

WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT for me to buy a dog?

I come back to my condo after stepping out for just two hours to grab a beer with friends. It’s Saturday. What else was I supposed to do? Stay home all evening?

Yes. That would’ve been the correct choice.

The currently nameless four-legged little shit used one of the couch cushions as a chew toy. Balls of wool litter the place, and the culprit lays on the carpet, partially hidden under the coffee table, munching my brand-new shoe.

He’s been here less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already two pairs of shoes, a cushion, and a doormat down. Let’s not forget I stepped in a puddle of his pee bright and early. That sure kick-started my morning.

During his unsupervised rampage, he knocked over a plant my mother brought to spruce up the place. I have no clue what to do with the green weed, so like the clueless man I am, I leave it on the floor. Next time Mom visits, she’ll have to replant, or repot, or redo something with it. From where I stand, it looks like the little shit might’ve peed on it too.

Destruction.

All around destruction.

I snap a picture of the mayhem, sending it to the Hayes brothers’ group chat.

Me: Who wants a dog?

Shawn: OMG, he’s fucking adorable! Gimme!

Nico: Told you to get a trained German Shepherd.

Logan: I’ve got some shoes he can chew. It is a boy, right? Does he have a name yet?

Me: Not yet, but ‘little shit’ has a nice ring to it.

It’s funny, but it’s not.

I send the picture to Thalia too, because… yeah, I’ve got nothing. I’ve not seen or spoken to her since Wednesday, and my thoughts swirl around the beauty twenty times a day. What’s more, I don’t just imagine her naked anymore. Last night, I stepped into a restaurant in town to grab a quick bite before heading home, and my immediate thought was, this is cool. I should bring Thalia here sometime.

I was so fucking stunned that I almost left the place without paying. I’m even looking forward to golfing with my brothers more than usual because I know she’ll be there tomorrow.

In fact, golfing never sounded more appealing.

Me: “Get a boxer,” you said. So, I did. You want a dog?

With no maid to tend to the mess, I drop to my knees on the plush carpet, wondering why the hell I didn’t buy a turtle.

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, yelling little shit at 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 choir hi, hello and hey back. “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 dog Ares? What happened to little shit?”

“It was Thalia’s idea, but the jury, namely the triplets and I, is still out. If he pees somewhere again, it will be little 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, Ares probably won’t stick.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to emasculate you.”

“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, one beep of the cart, and she’s gone, on her way to the next group of golfers.

I act cool, ignoring the ostentatious howling, and elbow-under-the-ribs goading from Shawn.

“I think we’re missing a bit of info here, bro. How did you get so chummy?” He wags his eyebrows.

It’s damn near impossible to keep a shit-eating grin in check. “We ran into each other on Wednesday. Well, she kind of barged into my office by mistake.”

I give them a rundown of the events, but no matter how many times I say Thalia’s fun and just a friend, they don’t believe me. Whatever.

I don’t have to prove anything to them.