With a gnaw at his favorite tennis ball, Erik set another waffle on the smoldering failure pile. Scooping more batter into the machine, he lowered the top and stared into the mysterious amber light on top. Forging waffles takes focus and discipline. Perhaps if I had some sort of waffle-window...
While the blueprints formed in his head, he scorched another waffle.
Hmmmm. Perhaps I've reached the limits of what experimentation can teach me on the waffle front. Also, I'm out of batter. The golden retriever deposited the charred confections on top of the full the trash bin. I'll have to research new techniques online.
With a shrug, he bagged the garbage and carried it downstairs. Cool wind breezed past, stirring his thick fur. He watched the leaves fall with a contemplative chew on the tennis ball. The badger who lived in #9 nodded his way; Erik wagged back, trotting to the dumpster. It smelled interesting and horrible, like old chicken.
His floppy ears perked. Tess's squeaky car door! He smiled around the ball in his mouth. After fumbling with the dumpster lid, he managed to get the rubbish into the rusty receptacle. Bare paws scampering over cold concrete, he bounced back inside and up the evening-lit stairs. He caught her scent halfway down the hall, where she would have come in from the parking lot. The spicy softness put a wag in his tail and led him bounding back to their door. He skidded to a stop, grabbed his keys, and then knocked instead.
Movement inside told him his plan worked.
At the last moment, he plucked the tennis ball from his mouth.
A pretty jackal opened the door, arching an eyebrow. "Forget your keys?"
Simply smiling, his paw brushed the ruff of her cheek, drawing her close. His nose bumped hers. Soft lips breezed along his. He closed his eyes and kissed her like in an old black-and-white movie until a giggle from her brought color to his daydreams.
Tess's paws rested on his waist, her coffee-brown eyes caffeinating his soul. "You're a doofus."
"But you like me." He squeezed her, trying not to get drool from the ball onto her work shirt.
"Yeah, I do." She licked under his chin. "Come inside; you're letting all the heat out."
They slipped inside, Tess returning to the PS3.
Dropping his tennis ball into the dishwasher, the retriever banished the waffle iron to the world beneath the countertop, grabbing and installing a new trash bag. Just as well I took the garbage out. Tess gets so funny about piles of smoldering things.
He trotted over and draped his arms around her shoulders. "Hi."
She paused the game, nuzzled him, then resumed adhering objects to a growing digital ball of whatnot.
Kneeling, he settled his muzzle on her shoulder and watched his girlfriend roll up some cows.
"Told you you'd like this game."
A smile brightened the jackal's muzzle. "Something very therapeutic about rolling the world into a giant ball."
Erik put on his deepest, sexiest voice: "You, darling, are the katamari that rolled up my heart."
"Wow, okay, I'm going to pretend that wasn't the corniest thing ever." She kissed his cheek.
Noticing the autumn cool that clung to her fur, he rubbed his paws down her arms. A pleased moan from his gamer girl encouraged him. His paw pads worked the chill from her ears.
Tess smiled. "You're always so warm."
"My brain's just that overclocked, sugar-jack."
"So tell me why can't I get over this ledge?" She growled at the inch-high impediment.
"Do the spinny-boost. The spinny-boost!"
"What does that even mean?"
"Follow my lead, Tess." The golden wiggled and wagged his way up to rest his chin on her head. He took hold of her ears, wiggling one at a time to calibrate. "Left analog. Right analog. Okay, ready?"
~ ~ ~
This scene had been rolling around my brain for a while. Whipped up this scene to go with
