Dog Lived (and So Will I) Read Online Free Page B

chase him around, which I did of course. I was rewarded with serious cuddling time as Seamus snuggled up against me. He was the first beagle I’d ever had that enjoyed being petted this much. Usually, a beagle lasts a couple of minutes of petting and then his nose and boundless excitement sends him bouncing off in another direction. But Seamus was as enthusiastic about cuddling as he was about his food. I knew Seamus was staying. I’d made a commitment to Seamus. But the truth was I didn’t want to have to choose Seamus over Chris.
    When Friday night rolled around, I prepared for the introduction of the beagle to the boyfriend. I walked Seamus in the morning and again in the evening. I walked him for longer than normal and hoped I’d deplete a little of that beagle energy. Then I lit the fireplace, chilled the wine, and prepared some late-night snacks.
    Usually, Chris waited out the Los Angeles traffic and didn’t leave his place until after eight at night, which meant he’d arrive between nine and ten. I’d always liked that schedule. I could still have dinner or drinks with a friend, attend any social or community functions I needed to, or just be home relaxing and reading before his arrival. This night, though, I was anxious for his arrival. I had not thought about the possibility of Chris and Seamus not getting along. I hadn’t thought about Chris at all when I decided to adopt Seamus. I hadn’t thought about much when I decided to adopt Seamus; that was becoming clear.
    Seamus followed me around as I got the house ready and was particularly attentive when I was in the kitchen. He sat with perfect doggie posture, head tilted to the left, mouth slightly open, and eyes wide and focused, watching my every move from only a foot away. I spread crackers on a plate, did my best to artfully arrange the cheese selection, added some salami slices, and then prepared bruschetta, realizing too late that the garlic was not a good idea for a romantic evening. Still, the food was nicely displayed and about as close to domestic as I get.
    I brought the two plates of seduction into the living room and set them on the coffee table. The fireplace gave a nice glow to the room, so I dimmed the light. Candles would be nice, I thought. I walked to the dining room, grabbed two of the three candles from the table, and headed back into the kitchen for matches. As I did, the phone rang. Caller ID told me it was Chris at the front gate of my complex.
    I buzzed him in and turned to talk to Seamus. “You’ll like him. Just be nice, okay, buddy?”
    But Seamus was no longer at my feet.
    “Seamus?”
    No answer. No jingling tags as the dog made his way to me.
    “Seamus? Come here, buddy.”
    No response.
    I walked to the living room.
    “Seamus!!”
    Both plates of food were on the floor. Seamus was inhaling every bit of food no matter how large. With each step I took toward him, he gulped that much more quickly and in larger bites. The tomato-garlic topping had splashed onto the carpet and the couch. The cheese, or what few pieces remained, peeked out from under the now upside-down and broken Italian ceramic serving plate.
    “Shit! Seamus!” I reached for his collar to pull him back from the mess, but he gulped and bolted away from me. I picked up the two pieces of ceramic, and as I rose up and turned to dispose of them, Seamus dashed in and gulped down two more pieces of cheese.
    “Seamus, stop it!” I yelled, as though a beagle has ever been commanded away from food. I knew better, but I’d forgotten the rules of basic dog training. It had been a long time since I had a new dog. I decided I’d scoop up as much of the food as I could, placing it on the largest of the broken ceramic pieces while maneuvering my body between Seamus and the spilled food for as long as I could. When I stood, I could see that Chris had let himself in the front door.
    “I knocked, but I don’t think you heard me,” he said.
    Seamus, finally, stopped his