Taps

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What is that?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why is she awake?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maybe she's thirsty.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I hope she doesn't have to use the restroom. It's so cold outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I really wish they had carpet.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

LET ME SLEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP!

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Oh my God. Fiiiiiine.

Exasperated, I threw the covers off of me. I need a real job, I thought to myself.

Petsitting for fifty bucks a night sounds great on the surface. Walk the dog a few times. Feed her. Sit on the couch, do nothing, get paid.

But here I am. And I miss my bed. And my boyfriend. And my routine. My anxiety and clean-freak nature have skyrocketed living amongst other people's dirt. Yes, I realize how petty that sounds. Yes, I know I need professional help.

I stepped onto the cold hardwood floor and made my way down from the loft to the main floor. I clicked on the light near the front door, illuminating the space in front of me.

The Tap. Tap. Tap. abruptly ceased.

Tess positioned herself sideways directly in front of me. She turned her head in my direction, and her cataract-filled eyes looked into mine.

Is that fear? Or... No, no, no, no, no, NO, NOOOO!

The sound of liquid hitting the floor accompanied by small farts made my stomach drop.

I was torn between sadness for the old pup who must've had quite the stomachache, anger at myself for not listening to her Tap. Tap. Tap. as a warning that she needed to go out, and the nausea overcoming me as the smell of diarrhea hit my nostrils.

I don't get paid enough for this shit.