Every morning, there's this dog that breaks into Steve's backyard and tries to eat his tomatoes.
It’s a beautiful border collie; fur mostly black on its back and white on its chest and muzzle. Steve knows it’s not a stray because the dog wears a black leather collar, and it’s too friendly. The first time Steve caught it trying to eat his tomatoes, the dog came running towards him and tackled Steve down, licking his face and wagging its tail excitedly.
That was almost a month ago, and every single morning since then Steve finds the damn dog in his yard. He wouldn’t really care about it if the little asshole wasn’t destroying the vegetable garden Steve spent the past six months slaving away to build.
“Get the fuck off my vegetables,” he groans, as he pulls the dog away again. This time, he only lost some lettuce.
The dog barks, playfully, then jumps at Steve to try and lick his face, not really getting that Steve is not playing with him.
A few days later, Steve is getting dressed for work when he hears the commotion in his backyard. He finishes pulling on his shirt, then runs down the stairs, already knowing that he’s probably gonna be late if he has to fend yet again for the safety of his garden.
He was expecting to find the dog there of course, but he wasn’t expecting to find a man there too; a very hot man. What the hell!?
For a moment, neither of them say anything. The man, hands gripping the dog tightly by its collar, stares at Steve like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes are huge and his mouth is agape and he seems a second away from getting the hell out of there.
As for Steve, he’s too busy ogling the man’s bare arms, covered in tattoos, and the smooth skin of his neck and collarbones to think of anything to say.
The dog takes this opportunity to break free from the man’s grip; it dashes towards Steve and tackles him to the ground, all happy and friendly as he noses Steve’s face affectionately.
“Ozzy, get off him!” the stranger says, alarmed.
It takes them a few tries but the dog, Ozzy, finally understands that neither Steve nor the stranger is playing there and goes with its owner, even if with some whining complaints.
After profusely apologizing, the stranger introduces himself as Eddie Munson, the new neighbor down the street, and promises to pay for any damage Ozzy might have caused. Steve tells him that, unfortunately, the damage is too great for money to cover it all, but that he’d consider it even if Eddie gave him his number instead.
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