Throw it again! Throw it again!

“And fetch!”

Don’t worry, Circe! I got it! I got it! I’ll make you proud!

“Who’s a good boy, Max!” Circe praises me – isn’t she so sweet. We are playing in the field. Circe loves the flowers here, I think. Daisies, sunflowers, lavender. Sunflowers are definitely my favorite. They are shiny. Bright. They glow. Reaching over you, ready to pet you. But I hate the daisies. They’re boring. No color. Just plain white. And they always get in my fur. They stick. They itch. I shake and shake, but they don’t fall off. But Circe thinks it's cute. She likes to put daisies in her hair. Sometimes makes a little crown of them to put in her shiny brunette locks. The white flowers look good against her dark brown hair, and the stems bring out her green eyes. My golden fur, though, definitely looks better with the sunflowers. 

Circe is making one of her adorable flower crowns now. I bring her my ball and she throws it. I try to run faster than the wind. And I almost make it, I think. I bring the ball back to her, faster and faster each time. Circe deserves nothing but the best. The wind is moving against her, though. It keeps trying to knock the crown off her head. I bark at it and try to outrun it again and again. It keeps trying to mess with her crown. I growl at it. Bad wind. I’ll keep her safe. 

“Come on now, one more time Max, and then mama has some errands to run,” she laughs and throws the ball one more time. I really hope we can go shopping after this. Circe always gets the best snacks at that cafe across from the pet store. It's an old brick place, all covered in vines. It smells like lemons and sugar and love. She gets me these cute little cups of whipped cream. I love them so much. And I even sometimes get a bite of her lemon meringue pie. Those days are amazing. I hope today is one of those days. 

And no trip is complete without a visit to the pet store. There is no way Circe wouldn’t stop by. She loves toy shopping. Maybe it'll be a rubber bone this time. Or a ball. Or one of those little squeaky ones. They are my favorite. They remind me of the friends Circe likes to pick up. 

We leave the field and walk towards the small town. The cobblestone streets and brick buildings mean I was right. A new toy and whipped cream. Circe picks up our usual at the cafe and sprinkles a bit of her pie into my treat. And she even let me pick the toy. And a new collar. I chose a green collar to match her eyes. And a yellow squeaky pineapple — bright like the sunflowers. Mine. My new favorite. I hold the pineapple proudly as Circe pays. She chats with the store clerk. He smells like rain and coins. A flirty comment here and a gentle touch there, and she walks out with his phone number. It looks like we might be bringing home a friend after all. Friends squeak longer than toys. They’re the best kind of fun.

“He is cute, isn’t he,” Circe smiles, and I smile right back. I knew it. A friend. I really cannot wait to meet him. Her eyes glow in anticipation, and I can't stop wagging my tail. I brush up against her, and she rubs me in the perfect spot. Right behind my ear and then under my chin. She never misses any of those annoying itches.

Now comes the preparations. Blankets set up in the spare bedroom. Circe’s shiny toys layed out on the table. The blankets are slippery and make a crunching noise under my paws. They aren’t like the blankets we bring on picnics. These smell sharp and strange, like the nicest, weirdest treats. They cover the floors, bed, even the walls. The room looks funny now, but it will all be clean after we play. Then the strange smell will be gone and only the cozy cookie smell will stay.

The anticipation is killing me. It feels like the waiting will never end. I might just burst with excitement. “Just a few more days,” Circe says with the same loving smile she always wears. She’s always right. I just have to wait. Circe always knows best. But every squeak and squeal of my pineapple reminds me of my last friend and makes me want another so much more. 

“Hey bud,” Circe beams, her blue eyes glowing in anticipation, “guess who’s coming to play with us today!” The waiting was almost over. My tail wagged harder than ever before. It’s been ages since we had a friend over. I can barely contain my excitement. “I know, I know. You’re excited. But don’t forget. You have to wait until I say go, alright.” Of course, Circe. I’ll be a very good boy. I’ll do anything for you.

The door shuts, and I can barely keep still. I walk back and forth and back and forth in front of the door. I jump up to the window, keeping watch from the couch. Circe should be home soon. I wonder what this friend is like. The last was tall, smelled like warmth and biscuits, and shouted a lot. 

I can’t sit still for more than a moment. The second I could smell Circe’s sweet scent outside the door, I sprint to greet her. The dangling of her keys and the laughter of the friend ring in my ears. The door opens with a big clack. I crash to the door ready to learn everything about our new friend. He smells like rain and coins. Its the store clerk. His voice is a little scratchy as he say, “Hey buddy,” and scratches my back. Circe’s hand touches his arm, fingers wrapping around our new friend as she leads  him to the table. She eats with him and calls him Finn. I think I like the name. I can’t wait to play with Finn. He smells a little nervous so I bounce up to him, resting by head on his knee. He says I’m an adorable golden retriever. Says my breed is very loyal. 

His laugh is high pitched – like a squeaky toy. Circe lifts her head and smiles the way she does when she has a surprise. She begins to lead him upstairs to the spare bedroom. I follow.

He will be a good friend. I will be a good boy.

He enters the room first taken aback by the blankets, but thats how they always react. He is confused but before he can try to leave the room – click – Circe locks the door. The game is on. 

She picks up fer favoite toy. It shines in the light, reflexing our friends excited face. He is shivering with excitement. She pulls him into a hug and his face matches the color of the daisies. Now I understand why Circe loves them so much. They remind her of our favorite game. 

Circe steps back. Her toys is tripping from the sweet warm juice Circe rewards me with once the game is over. My tail thumps the ground, faster, faster. His smell is sharp now, like worry and sweat. Circe nods. “Go.” I leap forward, knock him flat, and he squeaks just like my pineapple toy. I nip at him, starting with his nose and then his ears. I lick up the juice gushing out from the hole Circe’s toy made.

He starts to push me off. Flailing screaming. I hold onto his arm tight like I would by rubber bones. But here I can squeeze the juice out of him. Circe grabs another one of her toys: it looks just like my tug-of-war toy but hers is longer and black. She ties his arms together and then his legs. He wiggles and begs. Circe laughs. I love it when she is happy. He rattles and tries to undo the knots. But I grab his fingers and pull hard. Circe’s knots are perfect and he shouldn’t try to ruin them. I give her his finger and she beams.

He’s now squeaking louder. Even better. My tail almost wags me off my feet. “Go on. Pounce.” Circe says grinning. And I do. He shrieks. My teeth sink into his arm. The delicious warm liquid sprays across the room. It tastes sweet, like pennies and salt and power. He screams and thrashes and squeaks until his voice breaks. Circe kneels beside me, “Good boy,” she croons as she scatches me in just the right spot behind my ear. I press my teeth into our friend harder and harder and harder until the squeaking finally stops. My toy is quiet now, but that’s okay. Circe is proud of me. It’s better than fetch.