“Does it matter?” he counters.
I merely shrug my shoulders as I let go of Sirius’ collar. The puppy immediately jets toward Evan who locks his body in anticipation of a collision. There’s a smirk on my face as I watch Sirius jump up on Evan, paws going to his shoulders and I don’t bother trying to retrieve him.
“Oh-kay,” Evan chuckles as he pushes Sirius off him, only to have him leap back up again as he desperately tries to lick Evan’s face. “Get down, buddy.”
Evan struggles. Sirius leaps. Drool flies.
“Little help here,” Evan calls to me with a quick glance.
“Push him down,” I instruct calmly. “When he tries to jump up again, raise your knee up to prevent it and tell him to ‘sit’.”
Evan immediately does as I suggest. He pushes Sirius down, who immediately leaps back up. Evan raises his knee and hops on one foot with his hands warding off Sirius, whose tongue is flopping about in a mad attempt to lick Evan’s face.
I have to cover my mouth with my hand to not bust out laughing, and then almost pee my pants when Sirius—clearly bored with this new game now—sits very briefly only to reach out and snag the flip-flop off Evan’s foot that’s held in the air while his knee is still raised.
Quick as a flash, Sirius turns around and shoots out of the living room and down the hallway, where I can hear him leap onto my bed.
“Son of a bitch,” Evan mutters, and I can’t even look at him. I’ll lose it.
Instead, I call over my shoulder as I trot down my hallway, “I’ll get your shoe. Just hold on.”
“Fucking mutt,” he mutters. While I cringe at his casual use of the “F” word, I can’t contain the snicker that pops out of my mouth.
I find Sirius on my bed furiously working at something inside of his mouth. When I look down to my mattress, I see the flip-flop with half the heel gone and immediately hurry to the crazy puppy to pull it out of his mouth.
“Bad dog,” I say sternly, knowing my voice will carry down the hall to Evan, but then I whisper to Sirius and ruffle the fur on his head, “Good dog.”
His tail thumps in abandon over my praise, and I have to say… while I’m not looking forward to getting on that bus and traveling the country, I am relishing just a bit how much Sirius will probably torment Evan.
?
There’s more cursing by Evan after I hand him half a flip-flop, but it doesn’t last long. He pulls his other shoe off, grabs one of my large suitcases, and walks out door. I take that as my cue to get moving, and I work to get Sirius on his leash to bring him out to the bus. A big, burly man who is bald on top but has a long, red beard walks into my house and gives me a nod of his head, before walking over to my other luggage. Correction… he’s not big. He’s massive. Tall and wide with a bit of a gut hanging low and hands the size of dinner plates. He tucks the duffel under one arm and takes the other large suitcase in one hand, as well as my rolling case in the other, and walks back out my door.
Turning around once, I take a last look at my living room, and I have a moment of sadness to be leaving. I love my house. My little sanctuary where every spare wall is covered with bookcases, and filled with books. I’ve got fiction and non-fiction. Poetry. Self-help books. Romance. Thrillers. Law books.
I’m going to miss my books.
“Come on, Sirius,” I say as I give a little tug on his leash. While he’s a hellion at almost all other times, the minute he’s on a leash, he displays perfect manners and for that, I’m grateful.
We leave my house and I lock up, at least secure in the fact my dad will check on it frequently for me. My bills are all covered, as those were all on auto draft and the only other thing to worry about was my mail, but my neighbor’s going to collect it for me and give it to my dad. He’ll handle any emergencies.
My life is zipped up tidily and now I’m free to go on this… well, whatever this journey is. I still haven’t quite figured it out, because I’m just having an almost impossible time trying to accept that this massive bus in front of me is not only my home for the next thirty days, but my office as well.
Evan waits for me—barefooted—by the open bus doors. I can see the red-bearded guy behind the wheel as I walk Sirius across the front yard, with his nose to the ground sniffing. He pauses, squats, and pees—only because he’s still a puppy and hasn’t figured out how to raise his leg yet—and then we walk up to Evan.
He motions with his hand for us to walk up the steps and says, “Your chariot awaits.”
“It’s a land yacht,” I say out of the side of my mouth to him. “Not a chariot.”
Evan laughs as Sirius and I walk up the steps. At the top, the driver looks at me and says in a low, rough rumble, “Name’s Red.”