Here we go again. Have fun! Evening light streamed into the kitchen, lighting Bolt's fur in shimmers of orange and red. He trotted in, selecting the optimum location on the linoleum. Close enough to be seen, too far to be shooed off. Tilt head, drop ears, look up.
With a yip to get their attention, he struck the humans with the full force of his "dog face. Her mother shifted in her chair and gestured with a forkload of salad. He turned. Mittens smiled nonchalantly from the arm of the sofa, stretching her paws.
He turned back to his person, then cleverly sat back on his haunches, paws dangling in the air; the international canine gesture of suppertime supplication. His heart fluttered a little, tail wagging up a storm. They'd had little alone time and even less privacy in the small apartment back in the city. These little moments sustained him.
He yipped. Utilizing a daughter's incredible ability to tune out her mother, she scooped a chunk of meatball onto her fork and flung it to him. Bolt's eyes widened, locking on to the sailing hunk of beef, with its comet's tail of marinara and savory yumminess. Objective sighted! But it was moving too fast. She had put a little too much force on it and the meatball was going to sail right into the living room!
Bolt's head jerked up at the passing treat. Time slowed to a crawl. His collar tag jingled like chimes at an ancient monastic shrine. Nothing existed in the universe except him and his objective: the meatball. Coiling back for an instant, he leaped. The velocity of the meatball was still too great, he was going to lose it. Oh, no you don't! Bolt's eyes closed in meditative enjoyment. He twisted in midair to right himself.
Landing expertly, the canine slid back a few inches on the kitchen tiles, hind paws touching down on a carpet that didn't know how close it had just come to eternal stains. He might not have super-powers anymore, but-- A small stuffed mouse hit him on the head. Time jumped back to its normal speed.
He growled with a mouthful of meatball. The cat gave a purring chuckle, looking down from the couch. Her namesake white paws lay crossed in front of her black body.
Am I throwing off your dog-fu? Bolt tried to reply, but almost lost his treat and instead chewed at it eagerly. A second later, it was gone. Wha'd I miss? Wha'd I miss?! Several cardboard boxes shuddered and jostled before allowing passage to a clear plastic hamster ball. The fat little hamster spun around his ball once, inches from careening into a wall.
Oh man, I bet it was awesome! Cool it, rodent-sphere. Mittens idly licked a paw. Show's over. Looking a little dejected, the hamster sat down, his ball rocking back and forth. Bolt slipped back into the kitchen, continuing his mealtime mission. Knowing that her mother would disapprove of another direct approach, he made his way under the table. He nuzzled the leg of Penny's jeans. Her hand slipped down and scritched behind his ears. Her mother continued talking, explaining her plan for unpacking all their belongings. She was always making plans, hatching ideas.
Must run in the family Memories playing across his mind, he turned and licked at Penny's wrist, blushing under his fur at the taste. Palming a hunk of soft garlic toast, she lowered her hand under the table, pretending to get a better look at her mother's To Do list. As he licked every trace out of her hand and imagined licking other places She spread her fingers, allowing him access between them. Her knees rubbed together, she shifted in the wooden chair.
He looked up to see her eyes closed, head resting against the back of her chair. He wondered at first if she was okay, then his nose caught something. A scent that had hid in the edges of his dreams all these months. He smiled. Are you thinking about our--?
I'm fine. I think maybe you should head off to bed. And it's not even dark yet. Standing, she tousled Bolt's ears. Let's go see my new room! He heard Penny's mom call "G'night, sweetie! Bolt sat patiently, taking in his surroundings, as she stepped around the U-Haul boxes.
Part of him ached for the mobile command trailer. The city apartment had never felt like home. He didn't know if this house would claim the title either. Her new room was almost as long as the command center had been and easily wider.
Endless, glimmering fields hung outside the casement window. Smaller windows let in light from the western side, though the opposite ones were already darkening. Her white iMac hummed on her desk, the second thing she unpacked. Clothes had been first, of course.
The curtains swayed. A breeze crept up from the floor vents. Evening smelled different here, the air sweet and heavy with life and growing things, old plaster and pinewood. Sniffing, he smirked at his person. One thing still smells the same Not sure why her dog looked so pleased, Penny patted the comforter and he climbed onto the bed.
Her eyes gave him a once-over, as if making sure he was up to the next mission. Penny had given him that look a lot recently, but now with a smile instead of frustration. His thoughts drifted to back to the days before they left the city, when they had started getting reacquainted The sound was muted, the only noise coming from a fan in the window, pulling in the night air. The fourth floor apartment sat high enough to blend the street lamps and car engines into a single low buzz. The breeze from the fan stirred Penny's hair, lit in shining strands by the glow of the TV, now silver, now bronze, now back again, in the ephemeral flickering.
Bolt lay curled up with her in the easy chair, a thin blanket covering their bodies. Feeling her shiver a little, he snuggled closer and looked up.
She met his gaze, a smile reaching her tired eyes. Her hands moved slowly, smoothing the coarse fur of his back. He sighed happily as her fingernails scritched at the fur of his tummy. He saw his person's face half lit and fully wonderful. Penny, I How was he supposed to finish that?