God Only Threw the Humans Out of Paradise [2b/?]
anonymous
March 15 2010, 17:16:59 UTC
Much though I do hate it that Special Friend Alfred pushes me out of my spot on my human’s bed when he’s around, I hate it even more when he and my human have had a row, as my human calls it. I would probably call it a fight.
They just have a hard time being pack mates. They both want to be alpha male, and they both think that they can be, but Special Friend Alfred is young and energetic, and my human is experienced and scrappy. I think my human used to irrefutably be alpha male, and now he can’t accept that Special Friend Alfred wants him to be beta.
Sometimes their fights just end in good-screaming (that was how I found out good-screaming was good. Sometimes they don’t even make it to the bedroom. Special Friend Alfred says that it makes him feel like he’s being judged at the Olympics. Then he proceeds to say a lot of silly things, until my human smacks him for it). But sometimes, Alfred storms out of the house and my human barks angrily at the slammed door for a moment, until he crumples, broken-hearted, to the floor.
I, dutifully, start picking up the pieces.
My human lazes about for a few days, after that. I have to work just to get him out of bed by teatime. Whatever “tea” is, sometimes I think it’s what keeps my human alive. He loses his passion for embroidery, he loses his passion for reading, he loses his passion for just about everything. Not even the most earnest kisses can make him be his old self again.
Sometimes, if it was really bad, he won’t even let me put my head in his lap.
I bring him my toys. I bring him the ratty pheasant that used to squeak. I bring him the head of the rabbit that also used to squeak. I bring him the squeaky plastic cheeseburger that Alfred brought me (I hardly ever play with it), but that just makes it worse.
Squeak squeak. Squeak squeak.
“Al, I’m not really in the mood.” He’s holding his head like he’s having one of his all-over headaches, and he’s clutching a mug of tea (a cup just wouldn’t do it this time) like a lifeline.
Squeak squeak.
He winces. “Al, please.” I drop the toy in his lap like I did the others, and then amble upstairs. I come back with his little phone gingerly in my mouth. I nudge him until he takes his hand off of his face, and then climb over his lap to give it to him. I look up at him expectantly.
“You’re sick of me moping around, I take it,” he says dryly, looking at me. I cock my head. Try to look innocent. He sighs and starts pressing buttons on the phone. “God, sometimes I wish I was a dog.” I wag my tail and pant and grin up at him, as if to say:
“I wish you were too.”
After that, Alfred calls me his “wing man”, and when he and my human are done with their good-screaming in the bedroom Special Friend Alfred opens the door and lets me sleep on the bed with them. He always remarks to my human that he’s bad at training dogs because he’s always let them on the furniture. My human just looks at me and smiles, and scratches my ears.
Re: God Only Threw the Humans Out of Paradise [2b/?]
anonymous
March 15 2010, 22:13:00 UTC
Awww...this is so cute! Al is adorable, and I love how dedicated his is to Arthur. I especially love Al's view of Arthur and Alfred's relationship, how they both want to be alpha. I'm glad that someone is there to help out Arthur when he cries, even though his food is still hated.
They just have a hard time being pack mates. They both want to be alpha male, and they both think that they can be, but Special Friend Alfred is young and energetic, and my human is experienced and scrappy. I think my human used to irrefutably be alpha male, and now he can’t accept that Special Friend Alfred wants him to be beta.
Sometimes their fights just end in good-screaming (that was how I found out good-screaming was good. Sometimes they don’t even make it to the bedroom. Special Friend Alfred says that it makes him feel like he’s being judged at the Olympics. Then he proceeds to say a lot of silly things, until my human smacks him for it). But sometimes, Alfred storms out of the house and my human barks angrily at the slammed door for a moment, until he crumples, broken-hearted, to the floor.
I, dutifully, start picking up the pieces.
My human lazes about for a few days, after that. I have to work just to get him out of bed by teatime. Whatever “tea” is, sometimes I think it’s what keeps my human alive. He loses his passion for embroidery, he loses his passion for reading, he loses his passion for just about everything. Not even the most earnest kisses can make him be his old self again.
Sometimes, if it was really bad, he won’t even let me put my head in his lap.
I bring him my toys. I bring him the ratty pheasant that used to squeak. I bring him the head of the rabbit that also used to squeak. I bring him the squeaky plastic cheeseburger that Alfred brought me (I hardly ever play with it), but that just makes it worse.
Squeak squeak. Squeak squeak.
“Al, I’m not really in the mood.” He’s holding his head like he’s having one of his all-over headaches, and he’s clutching a mug of tea (a cup just wouldn’t do it this time) like a lifeline.
Squeak squeak.
He winces. “Al, please.” I drop the toy in his lap like I did the others, and then amble upstairs. I come back with his little phone gingerly in my mouth. I nudge him until he takes his hand off of his face, and then climb over his lap to give it to him. I look up at him expectantly.
“You’re sick of me moping around, I take it,” he says dryly, looking at me. I cock my head. Try to look innocent. He sighs and starts pressing buttons on the phone. “God, sometimes I wish I was a dog.” I wag my tail and pant and grin up at him, as if to say:
“I wish you were too.”
After that, Alfred calls me his “wing man”, and when he and my human are done with their good-screaming in the bedroom Special Friend Alfred opens the door and lets me sleep on the bed with them. He always remarks to my human that he’s bad at training dogs because he’s always let them on the furniture. My human just looks at me and smiles, and scratches my ears.
I keep all of his best secrets.
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Al has such personality, matter of fact, cheerful, and curious.
And its adorable that Arthur can't sleep without a drooling Al on his chest.
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AWWW
AWWWWAWAWAWAWW~~!!!
Just aww man, just aww. It's so adorably written, and he's like a dog (simple-minded). Just mucho amor para you~
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