Do you need more prompts? Ali and Ash get Logan after going on two years in New York
#puppyprobs
“Babe.”
“No.”
“Babe.”
Ali groaned, listening to the faint scratching sounds coming from the kitchen, pulling her pillow over her face as the whining cry began to emanate through the apartment.
“It’s your turn,” Ashlyn said, curled in the fetal position around a king sized pillow. She tucked in closer, shaking her ass back at Ali. “Better hurry before he pees.”
Resigned to her fate, Ali pushed the blankets off of her so she would feel less compelled to fall back asleep. From the kitchen, their eight week old puppy Logan sounded a long, keening cry. Ali sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Fuck,” she said, stomping her feet onto the carpet. “It’s snowing.”
“Mmm. Boots.” It only took ten seconds before Ashlyn’s side of the bed was filled with soft snores.
Ali padded into the kitchen while pulling on her sweatpants, hopping on one foot and nearly slipping. Finally, she came around the corner and saw the twenty pound Cane Corso puppy sitting back on her haunches, tail beating against the bottom of the cage.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Ali cooed, reaching to unlock the cage and pulling Logan into her arms. “Let’s go potty.”
Five minutes later, Ali was deeply regretting the choice she’d made at that farm in Virginia. She’d been taken in by the big puppy paws and the sweet smell on her scruff; she was the most adorable one of the litter, her belly protruding with an excess of kibble and treats. Now, a few weeks later, Logan was sitting stubbornly on the sidewalk as the snow fell around them, hushing the sounds of the city.
“Logan, I swear,” Ali said, tugging on the leash. “If you poop, I will legitimately go and buy you everything you could ever want.”
Logan stared at her, resolute. Still, she sat down in the snow. All Ali could think of in her sleep deprived mind was her warm bed and Ashlyn curled next to her. Alas, she was on the street at what felt like 4 in the morning, waiting for a stubborn puppy to poop.
She thought about Ashlyn, thought about her sleeping. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine a few years down the road, Ali’s breasts swollen with milk as their newborn child cried from their crib down the hall. Inevitably, Ashlyn would sleep through that as well, citing the fact that she lacked the bottle necessary.
Ali smiled to herself, imagining Ashlyn dancing with a baby girl barely six months old. She saw a big bow on her head and a cute onesie, laid against Ashlyn’s chest as she swayed her hips along with the radio. Ali would wake from her place, watch her wife and child and thank God for her happiness.
‘Wife’? Ali thought, ‘child?’ Wasn’t that a bit much? But it had been over two years since they’d left the airport together, wrapped around each other and understanding without conversation that they were back together. Surely, at 28, it wasn’t beyond the scope of realism to imagine children and a diamond ring.
And Ashlyn was worth it — stubborn and full of pride, Ali still felt like a million dollars every time she’d look at her. Ashlyn never left it to imagination how much she loved Ali, something she ever knew that she craved.
A small yip took her out of reverie. Logan was standing next to a small pile of poop, tail wagging.
“Oh yes,” Ali said, scooping her into her arms. “Who is a good girl?”
As she walked back upstairs, she allowed herself to dream more. Allowed herself to picture two tiny babies sleeping in a bedroom down the hall. Suddenly, two years didn’t seem that short of a time at all.
