Me Or The Dog

It was challenging moving into my girlfriend’s studio apartment. It was crowded for two adults and an ancient Shar Pei wrinkly beast.

“Package deal,” Sheila smiled. “I love you but -”

Shorthand, it meant Skippy slept with us. He snored, farted, whimpered in his sleep and pushed me to the brink of falling off the bed as his massive paws twitched.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw down the gauntlet.

“It’s me or the dog.”

That night I discovered Sheila changed the locks. Skippy barked at me through the window as if to say, “I loved her first.”

From Guest Contributor Marc Littman