The Newbie

Terence

As the sun readied for its dramatic drop below the waves, Terence and Gary trudged through the sand trailing after Gary’s youngest sister, Liz. Liz cradled a surfboard under her arm and wore a skimpy bikini showing off her lean but muscular frame. Terence wore her latest fur vest while Gary wore shorts and a t-shirt paired with wool socks and hiking boots instead of sandals, all of which went unremarked by Liz. 

Gary had long been sandwiched between a gaggle of sisters who worshipped water and sun. Gary, the only brother, worshipped fog and rain, which was how he’d ended up in San Francisco. Liz was a parasurfer instructor in Kauai who’d married up and older. Her husband’s bad heart kept him off the beach and inside their beachfront house taking conference calls about matters that no longer had any consequence to anyone but Kevin and his fellow retirees who’d fooled themselves into thinking they’d have a smooth landing once they pulled the shoots on their golden parachutes. 

Terence liked Liz well enough. The last time they'd visited, Liz had taken Terence for a ride on her surfboard. Terence had vomited sea water for days after, but she’d loved the way the wind felt pushing through her scraggly neck hairs while water coated her entire body. She'd clutched the surfboard with her paws, giving it all she had not to fall over. Liz had noticed and admired Terence's strength. While Terence had her surfing lesson, Gary stood on the deck of Liz's house watching and biting his nails in time with Kevin’s ragged coughs reverberating from somewhere deep within the bowels of the house. 

This time around, Terence hoped Liz would take her out on the surfboard again. She tried to signal her readiness by running as far ahead as she could into the surf without getting tripped up by the waves that kept washing over her paws and then barreling back to Liz while barking deeply the entire time. Terence did this at least three times before Liz even seemed to notice and all she said was, "Gary, don’t you think you should take her vest off? I think she’s running into the water to cool down."

Gary mumbled something that Terence couldn't make out over the sound of the waves. She'd bite him if he even tried so much as to adjust her vest and he knew it, but she growled for good measure to remind him.  Terence often wondered if she'd get more respect without Gary tagging along with his whiny voice and too small flannel shirts that sometimes rolled up over his pale stomach flab when he was walking along with his denim fanny pack hanging off of his hip. What would life be like if Liz was her human? They'd be out on the open water all day and jogging on the beach at night. That would be the life. Terence salivated at the prospect. 

“So, you’re really going to leave San Francisco?” Liz paused for a moment and waited for Gary and Terence to catch up.

“Ryder made me an offer and told me I’d be a fool to refuse,” Gary replied. 

Terence started digging a hole in the sand. Maybe if she dug hard enough, she’d dig her way out of having to move to New York.

“How is working at a hotel for dogs an offer?”

“It’s a cat hotel in Brooklyn and I’ll be the head mixologist. For humans. They’ve got someone else for the cats.”

“How’s that going to work out with her?” Liz dug her own little path of sand in Terence’s direction.

“Probably not well, but the pay is good enough when you factor in the free rent. I’ll finally have time to work on my novel. And there’s a dog who lives there already, so maybe she’ll enjoy having a playmate around.”

Terence stopped digging; mainly because she was out of breath. The prospect of another dog didn’t move her one way or another. She’d had too many dog park disappointments to get her hopes up.

“You’ll be that much closer to the vortex. She’s the only one on the East Coast for a reason.”

“She doesn’t bother me like she bothers the rest of you. Besides, she’s in Bronxville. I’ll never see her.”

“Don’t say I didn't warn you. If you wanted free rent you could come live with me. I won’t have a roommate for much longer.”

Gary started to say something about his sister’s marriage, but thought better of it. Instead, he bent down and rubbed the top of Terence’s head. She leaned into his hand, wishing he had a firmer touch. They continued down the beach. Liz waved to a guy wearing a wetsuit and carrying a long spear. Terence barked and lunged, but stayed close to Gary. 

Liz looked back at Terence and smiled, "That’s just Frank heading out for some deep sea harpooning. Frank, this is my brother Gary and his dog Terence."  

"Pretty fierce little bitch you've got here guy,"  Frank stood with his legs spread and his arms crossed.  Terence tried mimicking the power pose but kept slipping in the sand. Frank caught her and winked. Terence narrowed her eyes as she glared at his spear.

"Gary's in town helping me settle things while Kevin's still able to show us where things are,” Liz didn't sound the way Terence thought wives were supposed to sound when their husbands were dying.  That was what Gary had said was happening to Kevin. He was dying of a broken heart. Terence wondered why Kevin didn't get a dog to fix it. Terence fixed Gary's broken heart at least every three weeks.

"Yeah, that's rough. Heard Kev wasn't doing so well, but thought that was just par for the course with the old guy." 

Terence decided that Frank didn't mean to be an asshole. Some people just were.  

"Speaking of, Liz we'd better head back.  Terence is going to be getting hungry,"  Gary said unconvincingly.  

Terence stretched and lunged leaping into a full run away from all of them.  Gary with his weak lies to save face, Frank with his cuckolding power pose and Liz with her perfect smile holding all of them in thrall.  But not Terence.  She was free and flying through the sand at top speed.  At that moment, she didn't belong to any of them.  

She paused at the edge of Liz's property, panting and sweating underneath her trophy vest.  She looked around. The humans were still far enough away. If Terence started running again, they might not be able to catch her.  

Something clicked on in Terence. That something that usually hummed at a low frequency back home when they were at the dog park and she was off-leash. But Gary’s voice always drowned it out. Here, the waves crashing were louder than Gary. Terence would ignore the hum. For now. But she felt like it was only a matter of time before she’d have to give herself over to it. She shivered in excitement and fear as she waited for Gary and Liz to catch up so they could go inside.

When they got back to San Francisco, Gary started making piles. At first, and mainly because Gary had plaid shirts evenly distributed amongst both, Terence wasn’t sure which pile was meant to stay behind and which pile was going with them. She didn’t really care either way. Or at least she didn’t think she cared until Gary put her pelt in the “stay behind” pile.

Gary had bought the baby reindeer pelt for Terence a few months back as a peace offering for leaving her behind while he went to chase a flight attendant he'd met at the bar. Gary flew to Alaska, where the flight attendant was summering. Terence stayed home shivering and stewing, a prisoner of the old neighbor lady Blanche (née Barry) who cranked up the air conditioning while she rummaged through Gary’s closet; eating frozen burritos while she watched her stories. 

By the time Gary returned heartbroken and down to his last frequent flyer miles, Terence had worked herself up into a frozen froth. She'd snarled at Gary, even after he placed the reindeer pelt next to her bed - cooing over it as though it would spring to life under his tender ministrations. It wasn’t until he left for his evening shift at the bar and Terence was left alone that she tiptoed over to the pelt. Nosing it at first, just to make sure it was truly submissive. 

When it didn’t move, Terence growled and lunged at it. She salivated as she tore into the fur and yanked. It was too heavy for her to lift off of the ground with her jaws, but it didn’t matter. She’d had a taste of the kill. And now, it was hers. She growled and lunged at it every chance she got. One day, she’d grow strong enough to hoist it over her head and out the window. One day, she’d show that reindeer who was boss and since that day hadn't yet come, she needed the pelt to follow her across the country. Gary, not entirely oblivious, got the message and moved the pelt to the “go with” pile. 

Moving day was just a few feedings away. With the piles settled and the closets emptied, it was easier to see that it was time for Terence to get a new sweater vest. Her old ones smelled of Stewart, the black Lab who had been her best running buddy at Dubose.  Stewart was no longer with them.  He hadn't been put down or anything gruesome like that, he'd just moved somewhere else on the N Judah line. Even after knowing it was Stewart’s last day on the dog park, Terence had spent it chasing after Howie, a terrier who’d recently had a hip replacement. She didn’t even need to run to keep pace. Stewart tried to lure her away with a gentle nose in her butt, but she’d snarled and snapped. Stewart didn’t try a second time and spent the last minutes digging holes with Brody, a beagle that no one really liked. 

Gary had watched this display and only half-heartedly scolded her for it when she went so far as to lunge at Stewart’s jugular. Gary wasn’t so permissive as he was catty. Stewart’s human was Jake, a tech bro with a smile that showed up easily and who wore polo shirts and shorts in all weather with flip-flops that had fading whales on the cloth straps. Gary thought living in the Bay Area meant you should dress like a longshoreman and most days had on a rain slicker on top of a dingy cable knit sweater. 

Even though everyone at the dog park knew that Jake was just one of the latest in a sea of young guys with lots of money on paper, Gary clung to an alternate reality where Jake was an out of work actor who had nothing better to do than spend his days in the Castro hooking up in grimy bathrooms with any barkeep who would have him. Gary wasn’t entirely delusional. He was just choosing to believe the line Jake had fed Fredo Kahlo, the drag queen who owned the bar where Gary tended bar, or at least he had until Jake had cruised into the bar with promises of a good time and not much more. 

Fredo, who’d been about to get his 90-day chip from Sex Addicts Anonymous had been unable to resist Jake’s easy smile and even easier asshole. Fredo hit bottom as Jake’s bottom went in search of a new adventure and eventually had to sell the bar. It was the sale that had prompted Gary to reach out to his sister Ryder about a change of scene.

The morning of their sweater shopping trip, Terence ate two helpings of kibble, rolled around on her baby reindeer pelt and then ran up and down the cat condo Gary had bought her for endurance training after she'd marked it at the pet store. She needed to be as bulky as possible if she was going to convince the salesperson that she needed to be in the big dog section.  She'd break someone's skin if they even tried to put anything resembling a demented three year-old's dance recital onesie near her.

Gary finished his scone and can of ginger ale. Terence grabbed her favorite blue and white striped leash and stood by the door, tail wagging. Today, she'd leave sweaterless but she'd come home a stud.

Three hours later, Gary and Terence slunk into The Grind for some carbs and comfort.  Terence had gotten thrown out of Bitches of Distinction for mouthing the ankle of a salesperson who suggested that Terence's color was pale pink. Then at Houndstooth, Terence had gotten too close to the wax hunting display.  Terence was still sweaterless and Gary was sweating underneath his overstuffed layers.  He hadn't expected to be still shopping once the morning fog had cleared out.

Terence sat next to Gary trying to wait her turn for a lick of cinnamon toast.  She knew he was upset with her because he was using his low and slow tone instead of his cheery and clipped tone.  She was upset too.  How hard could it be to find the right sweater?  Rolly, the Great Dane had a custom capelet that didn't interfere with his stately gait. Harvard, the Golden had a classic navy crew neck that all the humans cooed over.  And even Theo, the Whippet had a special members only jacket to match his humans. If Terence had better social skills, she would just be able to ask them where they got their clothes. But she was hopeless. She despaired and butted the plate of toast off the table.  

Gary, now on the phone with his sister Ryder in New York, was yammering on about the cost of their mother's jerky of the month club membership and barely reacted. Terence took the opportunity to jump onto the floor and devour the toast.  If she couldn't have a new sweater before they left for New York, what was it all for?  Maybe it was time to be on her own again or maybe she could join one of those homeless dog crews in Golden Gate Park.  She bet no one ever told any of them that pale pink was their color.  

Gary hung up the phone and stood up. Terence would follow for now, but later back at home she'd make plans to leave while Gary was at the bar.  Outside, they turned left instead of right.  Terence sniffed.  Could it be?  Gary paused, thinking she had to do her business.  As if she could focus with the smell of cured leather wafting out of the store next door.  A bear walked out, "nice bitch.  She'd look amazing in their latest line." 

Gary, more of an otter always deferred to bears.  Terence panted.  They walked in.  The shopkeeper, another flannel-clad lumberjack of a gay, directed Gary and Terence to the fitting room shaped like a teepee.  Terence rolled around the shag bear pelt in ecstasy.  Gary texted his shrink about potentially breaking his celibacy vow.  

An hour later, they walked out.  It was raining and Terence didn't even notice.  Her alpine mooseskin vest fit like a glove. She'd stay with Gary a little longer, even if it meant going to New York.  

Six days and a cross-country flight later, Terence sat on the edge of Central Park underneath a horse-drawn carriage, her mooseskin vest was soaked with raccoon blood and she was shivering as the streetlights came on. She spat again and again trying to get the taste of flesh and desperation out of her mouth. So, this was what it felt like to be a big dog.  Matted fur and eyes watery from the salt spray of flesh. Terence had always imagined her first kill on the East Coast would be a deer. Raccoons were small game, not something she would have chosen. But you didn’t always get to choose your prey.

Terence was in this mess all because earlier that afternoon Gary had let her leash go slack as he exchanged numbers with a guy on a bike.  Terence was impatient and she'd seen a Golden trotting by with his owner, a trim woman about Gary's age pushing a double stroller in the bike lane.  After that red eye spent under Gary's seat, she’d wanted to run fast and there was no better place than the chaos of the bike lane.  She hadn't meant to lose Gary.  She'd just meant to run for a little bit and go back to him like she did back home when home was San Francisco. But once she was done running with Sammy, from the Upper West Side and who promised to meet her again the next day if she wanted, Gary was nowhere to be found.

It occurred to Terence that now that they were on the East Coast, maybe the game was different. Maybe Gary was the one running away from her. Whatever the game, it was getting dark and she needed someone to tell her how to get to Brooklyn, the Brownstone to be exact. That was where their new home was going to be. Terence had to make sure she was there too before Gary found a new dog to claim her pelt.

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