So I had to get rid of the dog. I didn’t want to, but I had to, so I put an ad online and the next day I get this call.
“Kinda dog is it?”
I glanced at Rusty, flat out by the TV, wiener dog body twitching under collie dog fur. “Survivor” always put her to sleep.
“Yes… She’s sort of a….”
“She’s a bitch?”
“Yes… I guess, a girl dog, yes…”
“Kinda name is that for a bitch?”
Rusty stirred. Her stump of spaniel tail quivered. On the screen, the competitors were gathering for the tribal council. Torchlight flickered on anxious faces. She whimpered.
“Where you at? I’ll come git ‘er now.”
When the bell rang, twenty minutes later, I’d decided not to answer it, but Rusty woke in a fury of barking and flung her pug snout at the door. A small bald man stood on the stoop, looking as if he was going to ask for an odd job, then stuck out a hand, in a martial arts move that stopped just short of my solar plexus. The back of the hand was covered in dense orange fur.
“Howdy. Name’s Rusty.”
I ran into him a few months later, on my way out to the bus stop.
“Thought you were leaving town,” he said.
“Well, I… there was a delay. Visa trouble…”
He looked cynical. I went to pat Rusty’s grizzled red head, but she shied away from me and pulled back on the rope that he was using as a leash. I was sure I gave him her leather leash when he left.
“C’mon Daisy,” Rusty said.
“I see you’ve resolved the issue,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Wasn’t going to change my name, was I?”
“I like it,” I said.
He nodded, pleased. Daisy got tangled up in his ankles and he aimed a kick at her head.
“Don’t think much of this dog though.”
Trifecta Challenge – 333 words – Rusty