Inspired by events of, I don’t know, yesterday. Identities changed to protect the hilarious.
How to Walk the Dog
“Jasper,” Mr. Donovan said, not moving from his reclined position on the couch. He could see the grey clouds marbling the sky through the window behind the TV. After a nine-hour day, he had driven home listening to inclement weather being forecasted on the radio.
Jasper only twitched against Mr. Donovan’s feet – was it a tail or a nose? With Jasper’s 70’s carpet shag of a fur coat, it was sometimes hard to tell which end was which.
“Do you have to go yet? It’s going to rain soon.” The weather lady on TV affirmed the radio man’s forecast: seventy-five percent chance of showers by eight o’clock.
Jasper snuffled against his leg and sighed.
Mr. Donovan reached for the remote and clicked through a few channels. “You should go to the foyer if you want to go for a walk. Jasper, go to the foyer.”
Jasper got up with great effort and stretched from snout to one delicately pointed toe. He sat down and regarded Mr. Donovan with a slight head tilt.
The shutters rattled, ushering in a gust of wind that sent a pile of napkins fluttering to the ground.
“Jasper, are you sure you have to go? Can’t you just use one of those fake turf patches they sell on TV?”
Jasper yawned and flicked his tail.
“Oh, all right.”
Mr. Donovan stood up with a mighty effort and fetched Jasper’s leash from the doorknob while Jasper trotted to the foyer. Mr. Donovan put on his socks and shoes and grabbed a handful of poop bags from the box on the table by the door. He stifled his own yawn. At least it wasn’t raining –
His thought was interrupted by the crack of thunder. A moment later, droplets began spattering the window.
Mr. Donovan heaved such a deep sigh that his ribs creaked. He gave Jasper a disapproving look and grabbed an umbrella from the stand. Jasper looked back at him, tail wagging, mouth open in a grin. “Fine,” Mr. Donovan said, and opened the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”