It was love at first sight.
He was the most beautiful pup I’d ever seen. A bloodhound; rolls of a Sharpei with the droop of a Beagle. A truly precious sight, flaps and all.
I named him Karl.
Every day, he had training more demanding than the average dog, but I made sure never to overwork him. I gave him breaks, treats, and plenty of love.
He’s two years old now. He’s a big boy and gives the sloppiest, wettest, sweetest kisses.
He loves me so and I love him too.
Maybe his was the love I’d needed all along.
Not some boy’s.
But I still love said boy very much. It’s hard not to love someone who gives you the same rush you felt the moment you first saw them.
“Wilbur? Are you in there?” Karl sat at my side whining. “Shush,” I whispered sharply, composing and preparing myself.
Sure enough, Wilbur answered the door, those vibrant blue bug eyes staring back at me. Karl’s tail wagged. He was almost as excited as I was.
“What brings you here?” I rubbed my brow and shook my head, exhaling exhaustedly.
“I know it isn’t exactly good timing. I just was wondering…Can we catch up?” An expected bittersweet, nostalgic smile stretched across his face.
“Of course. Come in.”
We sat on the couch with glasses of red wine and Karl laid calmly at my feet.
“I have trouble remembering the first time we met. Would you mind telling me the story?” He hesitated.
“Sure.” Wilbur sighed and relived everything. “We were at the drive-in theater with our friends and like destiny, we were parked right beside each other. I was the driver, you were the passenger, so we had the perfect view of each other. And you were beautiful.” I giggled sadly, realizing I hadn’t recounted the memory correctly. Was I not the one driving?
“I made some mistakes, Willy.” I rubbed his knee endearingly. He gently grabbed my wrist and placed my hand back in my lap, patting it reassuringly.
“We both did. We were young.”
“How much younger were we really?” He cocked his head.
“Far younger.” I stood up from the couch and dusted off my poodle dress.
”Karl. Anfalla.”
And he did.
He tipped the couch and dug into Wil’s throat, tearing and squelching, stretchy cords caught between his teeth.
I stood over the scene, watching Karl feast as Wil’s darling face was slowly drained of its life.
Karl listened to his chest, then nudged his wrist. No sign of a pulse. He panted up at me with bloody jowls.
“Good boy.”
I’m staying here for now with Karl and Wilbur.
I took Willy to the drive-in — the twenty-fifth anniversary of our movie. We recreate our memories and make new ones too.
The sex is better than ever! And when I need to cry, he always listens. When I’m cold, he’s my blanket.
He’s there, but he isn’t.
My beautiful multipurpose man.
But he’s starting to bloat. His smell is more repulsive than it was. Karl’s even grown tired of chewing him and he’s not so pretty to look at anymore.
Except for those eyes.
So as hard as it is, I think it’s time to finally let go.