“I’ve been sending my two-legger love poems for weeks now.”
“You’ve been doing what?”
“I felt sorry for him and he looked like he needed cheering up, but now he thinks he has a secret admirer, which is true, but he thinks it’s a two-legger woman who’s in love with him. Now I’m even more sorry for him.”
“You got to love the computer. With a pencil in your mouth you can type anything and you don’t even need the pencil to hit the buy button. I can do that with my nose. My two-legger should be getting six cases of canned chili from Preppers-R-Us any day now.”
“He confuses it with my canned food. He’ll just think he ordered it from Dog Chow Online after being at the bar.”
“But why chili? Isn’t the canned food just as tasty? All I get is dry kibble and the occasional ‘Oops, I dropped something,’ foot tap treat.”
“It gives me a buzz, and doubles as a laxative.”
* * *
Arthur stood with his two dog park friends, Stan and Jerry, each sipping their Saturday morning Starbucks as they launched themselves on a sugar and caffeine high.
Arthur licked the froth off his upper lip. “Another poem arrived last night when I got home from The Blue Moon.”
Stan and Jerry perked up. Arthur had been showing them the poems since they started arriving through his mail slot a few weeks ago.
“I wish I had a secret admirer,” Stan said.
Jerry nodded agreement. “A mysterious love interest, that’s what we all need.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Arthur said as he pulled the poem from his pocket. “More like a foot fetishist.”
Stan grinned. “This sounds good.”
Arthur unfolded the sheet and read.
“I sleep with your socks in my bed,
Drifting off to sleep with the musk of you.
In my dreams I pull them from your feet with my teeth
So you’ll chase me down and scruff my neck.
I can recognize your scent anywhere
And if we are ever parted
I’ll track you a thousand miles
To be at your side again.”
The three men wanted to crack a joke at the admirer’s expense, but they were oddly moved by the writer’s devotion, and had to admit to sharing the same appreciation on arriving home from work with the scent of their feet when they slipped off their shoes.
Stan was the first to speak. “She’s definitely a keeper.”
“You’ve got to find out who she is,” Jerry said as he looked at the gathering of women nearby. “Maybe she’s someone here.”
Stan looked over the same group of women. “It could be the hottie with the Rottweiler.”
Arthur smiled at the thought, then grimaced. “Yeah, but with my luck, she’ll be the Rottweiler.”