Chapter 14 Ris
Ris
“Ithink I’m partial to human names for animals,” she announced one afternoon, one of those work-from-home days when she managed to scoot out of her own office early.
“What do you mean, like Carl? Jebidiah? Aloysius?”
“No!”
Ris laughed in outrage at the suggestions, but Ainsley only shrugged from where he sat at the work chair he’d pushed into the living room, insisting he needed to get used to being wherever the dog was during the day.
“I mean, you’re not really giving me much to go on, Nanaya. What kind of human name? Gary? Ramón? Horace? Hakim? Francoise?”
“No!” she exclaimed again, falling over sideways on the sofa, now protected by a multi-color protective liner, in anticipation of a shedding puppy. “Stop! Like . . . Richard. Or maybe Alan?”
Ainsley spun in his chair, squinting at her across the room.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.
I’m worried you are being serious, because that’s really going to impact our relationship, if you are.
” He easily dodged the pillow she pitched across the room in his direction.
“I was thinking something regal. Something befitting a hound of higher education, obviously. Marduk, after the ancient Babylonian god. Or Wepwawet, an Egyptian dog-headed god who scouted pathways for the Pharaoh and his armies. Or like, Magrakanjeush from the ancient Bogdwellers.”
“Oh, Richard is putting our relationship in peril, but Magrakanjeush is fine and dandy? I’m not letting you get our dog bullied at puppy preschool just because you’re a nerd.”
“You like that I’m a nerd!”
Ris allowed herself to be tackled on the sofa when he launched himself from his chair, throwing his body across the room to land on the sofa, caging her in his arms. She shrieked in laughter as he tickled her ribs, knowing exactly where to attack.
“Admit it, Nanaya! I want to hear you admit that you love your nerdy domestic partner and that Alan is a terrible name for anything, let alone a dog!”
“Fine!” she screamed. “I like that you’re a nerd! No . . . I love that you’re a nerd!”
He relented at last, holding her wrists and glaring down as she giggled.
“But! Alan is a perfectly fine name. It’s a lot better than Magrakanjeush, and you can tickle me until I’m dead. I said what I said.”
He blew out an exasperated breath, kissing the tip of her nose and shaking his head in disgust. “You know, you’re lucky you’re hot.”
“Ditto, garbage boy.” She met his mouth when he bent, meeting his lips with a grin. “A smoking hot nerd who’s real fucking lucky he has a smoking hot girlfriend to save him from himself. I’m saying no to Magrakanjeush.”
Ainsley pushed himself up with a sigh, settling into the other corner of the sofa. Ris turned to face him fully, crossing her legs into a lotus position as he grumbled under his breath.
“Does this mean we need to start another list?” he groaned, dropping his head back to the cushions dramatically, as if she were asking him to give birth to the dog himself. Ris had no doubt he’d be willing to try, if it were at all possible.
“I guess so. Because if that’s what you’re going to come up with if left to your own devices, you’re not making this decision alone.”
“Fine. But I get to vet any name you submit for historical worthiness.”
“Fine,” she allowed. “And I get to vet your submissions for the number of syllables and hidden consonants.”
“We have an accord.”
Ainsley stuck his hand out for her to shake, a gesture Ris met with a wide smile .
. . until he pulled her back across the cushions, shrieking as he tickled her once more.
It was better than his melancholy and although she wasn’t willing to admit it out loud to him, she would tolerate any name he chose, if they could keep things this light and easy forever.
* * *
Fitz came to them by accident, one that was entirely her fault.
“What should we do today?”
His voice was a vibration beneath her cheek, pressed as she was to the solid plane of his chest. She yawned in response.
“Do we have to do anything? Shouldn’t we be getting used to being home more? Being responsible dog owners?”
Ainsley groaned. Ris yawned again, wriggling her cheek against him as he raked his fingers through her hair.
His own head was still bare. He still hadn’t decided on how he was planning on growing it out, refused to make a commitment until he could see the hair itself, which was never going to happen, because the second his stubble grew beyond being stubble, he shaved it off again.
She had work to do, technically. She had come up with a list of close to forty names.
It was simultaneously more than she’d expected and too few to be actionable.
Elves, nymphs, sylvans, folks from ballet, from work, from book club and the green market, women she knew from her old condo.
She had drafted a preliminary email, keeping it light and superficial, the initial soft launch of her idea, to gauge interest. Their responses, so far, were encouraging.
Sounds interesting!
Would love to hear more.
Keep me posted!
Energy thrummed through her with each response, and now she was planning their first get-together. Something simple, low pressure, no expectation of performance. Least of all, from herself.
She still had no idea what to call whatever it was she was planning.
The Women’s Collective sounded too corporate, as if she were organizing a professional association for middle management.
The In-Between was too precious. Her commutes had become brainstorming sessions, talking aloud to her notes app and trying to make heads or tails of her babble later in the day.
Having an afternoon free to focus would have been welcome . . .
But more than she wanted to work, Ris decided, she wanted to hear him laugh. Not the ironic huff. The real Ainsley laugh, that shook his whole chest and filled the room with light.
“Let’s go to the shelter,” she suggested, grinning when he raised his head to look at her quizzically. “Just to look! I’ve never even spent time around dogs, not really.”
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he stage whispered as they walked hand-in-hand across the shelter’s parking lot less than an hour later. “We’re already on a list! What if it gets back to that dog that we’re shopping around for something better?”
“We’re not shopping around, you idiot,” she giggled into his arm. “We’re just looking! Getting a feel for things. Seeing if I can tolerate the smell. Don’t overthink it!”
“We need to seriously start narrowing down the names,” he reminded her.
“I already told you my votes. We just need to agree on something.”
Ainsley gave her a dubious look, clicking his tongue. “Yeah, and I told you I’m not naming my dog Kevin. So you can get that idea right out of your sexy little head.”
She was still laughing when they walked through the doors, signing in at the desk to receive visitor badges. “I know it’s a long shot, but you don’t have puppies, do you?”
The volunteer gave her a thin smile. Ris understood.
No doubt that’s what everyone came in hoping for, she reasoned.
Something fresh, something new, the promise of no bad behaviors or ailments.
She couldn’t imagine many folks walked through the doors asking for an older animal with health problems. Ainsley gave her a hard look, narrowing his eyes.
“We’re already on a list!” he hissed. “We’ve already been waiting for weeks! And now you’re going to get us blacklisted because of your waitlist philandering.”
“I told you, we’re just looking!”
The smell was immediate. Dog breath, wet fur, and an industrial-strength disinfectant.
It wasn’t terrible, she decided. And there will only be one at home.
Barking ricocheted off the concrete walls, making her wince.
Ris wrinkled her nose, feeling immediately guilty for having done so, glad there was no volunteer leading them.
It was immediately evident that they were not the only two who had decided the dreary Sunday was a good day to visit the animal shelter. There were couples, families, and employees wearing identical T-shirts leading others through the aisles.
They paused before a Labrador puppy enthusiastically chewing the gate of its enclosure, and then a little further down the same aisle, a Shitzu, eyeing them as if they had personally offended her family.
Ainsley smiled, laughed, crouched to scratch ears .
. . but he kept moving. The laughter was slightly hollow, and the smile didn’t crinkle his eyes, let alone light the whole room.
Ris bit her lip as she followed him past several crates of dogs, barely slowing.
She wasn’t sure whether it was because he had already mentally committed to their waitlisted dog, or if this was something else.
He can’t even commit to having hair again.
She had expected him to light up immediately upon their arrival, and now she was still waiting.
The next room had fewer visitors milling around. The space was quieter, full of echoes. She tightened her arm around his, feeling as though the air itself were heavier.
Too many large breeds. They may have had sweet dispositions, but their size made her nervous, and even though he had originally hinted that he would like one of these large-jawed behemoths, Ris had put her foot down.
She’d never even had a pet before, and had certainly never had a large dog.
She was already a bit anxious over this whole venture, and the mere thought of a dog she could potentially lose control of made her palms itch.
It was out of the question. At least, for now.
“Who’s this?” Ainsley asked.
The volunteer they’d come upon was crouched before an open cage, grunting when she pushed herself up to meet them. Her smile was also thin, Ris noted.
“This is Fitz. He’s just arrived, so we’re trying to get him acclimated.”