Eavesdroppers

Can life get any better than this! Cool winds teasing the tufts of my hair, a warm caress of the setting sun, a creaky wooden bench that accepts me with the firm embrace of an old friend. Max huffs at me as I once again wax poetic. But, in my defense, who cannot romanticize the rhythmic crunching of leaves under jogging feet and random shrieks of laughter from pesky kids.

Max is rather crabby today. He hates distractions and is not a fan of my abstract sentimentality either. As I laugh, he turns his attention back to our quarry- Ms. Sweety-pie and Mr. Sugar-bums. A quick recap- for the past two months, we have endured through the awkward first dates, tentative conversations, the explosive declaration of love and playful, yet horrifyingly passionate coochie- cooings.

But, since the past two weeks we have also witnessed insecure jealousies and violent fights, which are of course followed by scarring and fervent patch-ups. Max, the closet romantic has been rooting for the two to find their love again. Back to the present, Sweety-pie is apologizing for missing Sugar-bums’ birthday party yesterday. Poor guy! And he surprisingly forgives her. With the duo uttering sweet nothings, Max relaxes.

Suddenly, a phone rings and Sweety-pie answers, “Hello… I’m his girlfriend. Who the hell are you?” There is a continued silence and then the sound of palm meeting cheek echoes. Max and I listen with bated breath as Sweety-pie sobs pitifully. The word “Cheater” is heard quite a few times. Soon, her sobs turn into screams of “Don’t touch me” and “I don’t want to see you ever again.” Feet storm off and then silence. Max is, to put it mildly, shocked. He sure didn’t see that coming. Winning our bet, I try hard not to make the I-told-you-so face. But let’s face it, any couple called Sweety-pie and Sugar-bums simply can’t last.

I get up and pull on Max’s leash, but he refuses to budge. What a sore loser! I tempt him with ice-cream and finally he deigns to guide me home. Still, I can’t resist rubbing it in. So what if I’m blind, I still know my own species better.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s