Not quite RPS
Mar. 25th, 2007 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feng_shui_houseLove comes in all Shapes
The divorces had been painful, but it was the little things that hurt at unexpected moments. He missed his favorite armchair.
His lover desperately missed the dogs his wife had won in the court battle. It wrenched at his heart when his lover would half start out of bed in the morning to take the beasts for a walk, only to remember they were gone.
He would have bought a puppy, but really, it would be foolish. They both worked, sometimes long hours, sometimes they had to travel. You couldn't turn down work on the basis of having to let Rover out, now could you?
Besides, they were both grown men and buying a puppy for your lover was just so... cute. No, it wouldn't do at all.
He was quite firmly decided on that. No puppy. No. Maybe he'd take up golf. Good exercise, and he could join his partner on the links. Maybe they'd take a holiday. In Greece perhaps. Sun and water and no one particularly thinking anything if two men embrace in public. Or kiss. Well, enough daydreaming, time to go home.
He finished removing the stage makeup, gathered up all the belongings that tend to accumulate in one's dressing room at the end of a long run and then he left the theatre by the back entrance. It was late, and one of the outside lights was out, so he had to pick his way carefully around boxes and bits of rubbish. If he hadn't been going so slowly and the evening hadn't been so quiet he wouldn't have heard the whimpering.
Curious, he looked around. Under a pile of rags behind a crate he found a small stiff cold body. Nuzzling it weakly was a light-colored puppy matted with filth, shivering. He'd never seen such a tiny pup. Being a true Britisher, he could hardly leave the beast to die. He sighed and tucked the tiny morsel of dog into his overcoat pocket. There were institutions to take care of stray dogs, of course, but it would be a nuisance trying to find one open in the middle of the night.
He went out to the waiting car. His lover was leaning back, eyes half closed, listening to music on the radio.
"What, no adoring fans?" he asked, teasingly, as he settled into place beside him and kissed him on the cheek. He was rewarded with the brilliant smile that had captured his heart years ago. "I frightened them off by telling them you were the jealous type." His lover leaned towards him, but he fended him off.
"Wait a moment! I've something in my pocket."
"Yes, I know you do, but let's not do anything in public."
He groaned. His lover had a terrible taste in humor. He took out the puppy. "I found it in the alley. I couldn't leave it there."
"No, of course you couldn't." His lover took the puppy and examined it quickly. "Poor little scrap. Well, we can give it some warm milk and in the morning drop it off at the RSPCA."
___
Of course, he had to agree that the little beast deserved a chance, and it was a chilly night. After it had a quick 'wash' with a damp cloth, and sucked warmed milk from an improvised teat (neither of them used rubber gloves to do the washing up, so it was no big sacrifice) they settled down, all three in the one bed.
He woke in the morning to the sound of soft laughter. His lover was in his thick dressing gown, holding the pup on his lap and stroking it while it nursed. That voice that had whispered love into his ear was murmuring to the pup, "Yes, you're a clever fellow, aren't you, boy?"
He cleared his throat and sat up. "I'll call 'round and see if they have room for him, shall I?"
"Yes, of course. I'll just go make the coffee." His lover handed him the pup and the milk-dripping glove. "Why don't you top him off?"
After they had coffee he looked again at the pup. It wasn't dirty or shivering any longer. And it was very tiny. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take it to the vet, first, get it a clean bill of health, maybe some special food."
"Yes, I'd like to give Alley a fair chance."
"Alley?"
"Well, it came to me that would be a good name for him, if we were keeping him. Which we're not, of course."
"Of course."
___
Alley became one of the few dogs allowed backstage for radio, television, movies and plays, having learned to remain absolutely silent and never get in the view of the cameras. The only problem was that he wouldn't sit still for anyone threatening either of his masters. Having a three-pound, apricot-colored teacup poodle silently hanging onto his ankle for grim death made John Thaw corpse.
The divorces had been painful, but it was the little things that hurt at unexpected moments. He missed his favorite armchair.
His lover desperately missed the dogs his wife had won in the court battle. It wrenched at his heart when his lover would half start out of bed in the morning to take the beasts for a walk, only to remember they were gone.
He would have bought a puppy, but really, it would be foolish. They both worked, sometimes long hours, sometimes they had to travel. You couldn't turn down work on the basis of having to let Rover out, now could you?
Besides, they were both grown men and buying a puppy for your lover was just so... cute. No, it wouldn't do at all.
He was quite firmly decided on that. No puppy. No. Maybe he'd take up golf. Good exercise, and he could join his partner on the links. Maybe they'd take a holiday. In Greece perhaps. Sun and water and no one particularly thinking anything if two men embrace in public. Or kiss. Well, enough daydreaming, time to go home.
He finished removing the stage makeup, gathered up all the belongings that tend to accumulate in one's dressing room at the end of a long run and then he left the theatre by the back entrance. It was late, and one of the outside lights was out, so he had to pick his way carefully around boxes and bits of rubbish. If he hadn't been going so slowly and the evening hadn't been so quiet he wouldn't have heard the whimpering.
Curious, he looked around. Under a pile of rags behind a crate he found a small stiff cold body. Nuzzling it weakly was a light-colored puppy matted with filth, shivering. He'd never seen such a tiny pup. Being a true Britisher, he could hardly leave the beast to die. He sighed and tucked the tiny morsel of dog into his overcoat pocket. There were institutions to take care of stray dogs, of course, but it would be a nuisance trying to find one open in the middle of the night.
He went out to the waiting car. His lover was leaning back, eyes half closed, listening to music on the radio.
"What, no adoring fans?" he asked, teasingly, as he settled into place beside him and kissed him on the cheek. He was rewarded with the brilliant smile that had captured his heart years ago. "I frightened them off by telling them you were the jealous type." His lover leaned towards him, but he fended him off.
"Wait a moment! I've something in my pocket."
"Yes, I know you do, but let's not do anything in public."
He groaned. His lover had a terrible taste in humor. He took out the puppy. "I found it in the alley. I couldn't leave it there."
"No, of course you couldn't." His lover took the puppy and examined it quickly. "Poor little scrap. Well, we can give it some warm milk and in the morning drop it off at the RSPCA."
Of course, he had to agree that the little beast deserved a chance, and it was a chilly night. After it had a quick 'wash' with a damp cloth, and sucked warmed milk from an improvised teat (neither of them used rubber gloves to do the washing up, so it was no big sacrifice) they settled down, all three in the one bed.
He woke in the morning to the sound of soft laughter. His lover was in his thick dressing gown, holding the pup on his lap and stroking it while it nursed. That voice that had whispered love into his ear was murmuring to the pup, "Yes, you're a clever fellow, aren't you, boy?"
He cleared his throat and sat up. "I'll call 'round and see if they have room for him, shall I?"
"Yes, of course. I'll just go make the coffee." His lover handed him the pup and the milk-dripping glove. "Why don't you top him off?"
After they had coffee he looked again at the pup. It wasn't dirty or shivering any longer. And it was very tiny. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take it to the vet, first, get it a clean bill of health, maybe some special food."
"Yes, I'd like to give Alley a fair chance."
"Alley?"
"Well, it came to me that would be a good name for him, if we were keeping him. Which we're not, of course."
"Of course."
Alley became one of the few dogs allowed backstage for radio, television, movies and plays, having learned to remain absolutely silent and never get in the view of the cameras. The only problem was that he wouldn't sit still for anyone threatening either of his masters. Having a three-pound, apricot-colored teacup poodle silently hanging onto his ankle for grim death made John Thaw corpse.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 06:44 am (UTC)Oh my god, my Grandma had a dog EXACTLY LIKE THAT. Name was "Toy".
Alley is PERFECT for them, really.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 09:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 09:18 pm (UTC)Easier to hide until they stink the place out. Easier not to notice until they've been trodden in.
(Do you get the impression I'm not a doggy person?)
no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 07:44 pm (UTC)Its fatal to look after anything "just overnight" we got Kzin that way!
Alley might be small but he moves like a butterfly and stings like a bee!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-26 08:59 pm (UTC)