Penn State York

“The Fat Dog” by David Fair

I sit with the fat dog. Her eyes brighten; hoping my gaze is only the beginning of my attentions.
It’s another beautiful day in Dana Point.
Jon comes home from work and the fat dog wiggles and moans in anticipation of that small act of affection about to be offered.
You and I talk on the telephone. I hear warmth in your voice, but I can’ touch it from where the fat dog and I sit.
The sprinklers are spraying the desert garden.
The brick and tile hottub is bubbling now. It commands a view of ocean between San Clemente and Dana Point. The tub bubbles, but the water in it is cold.
The fat dog is gone now. She moved off to sit, solitary, in the sunshine.
I still sit in the sunshine, solitary as well.
Earlier, Jon asked about our relationship, What’s it worth? Nobody gets it perfect. What are you gonna do? He shrugged.
Jon lives for his work.
I get a few hours of his time here and there as I vacation in his home.
He speaks of peaks and troughs in life. The peaks and troughs in his work plague him.
The fat dog and I watch.
Jon says, But what are you gonna do? He smiles.I’ve still got my health. He taps his head with a finger. His brow wrinkles.Oh, that’s right. He shakes his head. His smile grows.I don’t have that either. He looks at the fat dog and says, I’ve still got Honey. Honey loves me. Come here, Honey. Look.That’s right.Honey attempts to press every part of her soft body into Jon’s offered affection. The moment is brief, and when it ends the fat dog must be content for another day.
You said, Goodnight, and hung up the phone.
I imagined stroking your hair. My fingers swept through fearsome tangles. Before I was done you fell asleep. I sighed, knowing that I must remain content until tomorrow.