New Addition -A Short Story By Sandra Bunting
They could hear the coffee bubbling in the kitchen. Kevin said he’d get it.
“Christ it stinks in here,” he shouted, pouring the black liquid into tiny cups, one with sugar, one without. Christine got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. It did smell bad. Just then a stream of yellow leaked off the newspaper in the corner. The dog looked up expectantly.
“Good dog,” Christine reassured it.
“Good dog? She totally missed the paper.” Kevin shook his head.
“It’s only been three weeks, Kevin. At least she’s aiming for the paper.”
Christine started to clean away the newspaper, got out the bucket and filled it with disinfectant.
Kevin stood there watching her. The dog looked up at him with a quizzical look, puppy eyes over a grey moustache.
“It’s okay girl. It’s not your fault.” He patted the eager little head. “But I never wanted a dog,” he said. “Won’t be able to get away on holiday. No one to look after you when we are working?”
Christine put the cleaning things away and stopped to smell the room.
“Better now,” she whispered. “It’ll work out.” She reached for her coffee. It was cold and she drank it down quickly.
To tell the truth, Christine was finding the dog hard going. She had trained dogs before when they lived in the country. But here, instead of being able to just let it out the door, she had to walk it twice a day, usually in the rain. It was disappointing to return home drenched from a walk just to have the dog rush to the paper. She had no time to play and cuddle with it like she had with the one she had as a child. It was as if the dog knew her feelings. It was always scuttling away from the slightest noise.
Kevin put on more coffee. The young boys from the street made faces through the window. They had forgotten to pull down the blinds again. Christine ignored them. She remembered when they first came to the house, the boys had pulled flowers out of her carefully placed window boxes, scratched their car and pounded on the door and ran away. They were more manageable now.
Christina put food down into empty bowls on the floor. The cat walked in with a dignified air. The dog made a dash to steal her food but the cat only looked at her in disdain.
“I give up,” said Kevin. He shrugged, putting his arm around Christine. She smiled. The evening had started off so well. He had even brought her flowers. She watched the animals at their games then took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and dragged Kevin out of the kitchen.
Copyright Sandra Bunting
“Christ it stinks in here,” he shouted, pouring the black liquid into tiny cups, one with sugar, one without. Christine got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. It did smell bad. Just then a stream of yellow leaked off the newspaper in the corner. The dog looked up expectantly.
“Good dog,” Christine reassured it.
“Good dog? She totally missed the paper.” Kevin shook his head.
“It’s only been three weeks, Kevin. At least she’s aiming for the paper.”
Christine started to clean away the newspaper, got out the bucket and filled it with disinfectant.
Kevin stood there watching her. The dog looked up at him with a quizzical look, puppy eyes over a grey moustache.
“It’s okay girl. It’s not your fault.” He patted the eager little head. “But I never wanted a dog,” he said. “Won’t be able to get away on holiday. No one to look after you when we are working?”
Christine put the cleaning things away and stopped to smell the room.
“Better now,” she whispered. “It’ll work out.” She reached for her coffee. It was cold and she drank it down quickly.
To tell the truth, Christine was finding the dog hard going. She had trained dogs before when they lived in the country. But here, instead of being able to just let it out the door, she had to walk it twice a day, usually in the rain. It was disappointing to return home drenched from a walk just to have the dog rush to the paper. She had no time to play and cuddle with it like she had with the one she had as a child. It was as if the dog knew her feelings. It was always scuttling away from the slightest noise.
Kevin put on more coffee. The young boys from the street made faces through the window. They had forgotten to pull down the blinds again. Christine ignored them. She remembered when they first came to the house, the boys had pulled flowers out of her carefully placed window boxes, scratched their car and pounded on the door and ran away. They were more manageable now.
Christina put food down into empty bowls on the floor. The cat walked in with a dignified air. The dog made a dash to steal her food but the cat only looked at her in disdain.
“I give up,” said Kevin. He shrugged, putting his arm around Christine. She smiled. The evening had started off so well. He had even brought her flowers. She watched the animals at their games then took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and dragged Kevin out of the kitchen.
Copyright Sandra Bunting
posted by sandbunting @ 2:49 PM
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