On Tilda

On Tilda

By Jason Hunke

You annoyed me – maybe scared me? – when we first met. I was simply exploring the idea, but he was drawn to you at once. Your glassy, bulging eye freaked me out; your grunts and wheezing were a turn off; but I admit the brindle coat was intriguing.

While I wandered into the aisles of toys and kibble, passing by rescues that were twice as gorgeous but twice as aloof as you, him sat cross-legged on the floor with his fingers in the cage scratching your ample ass. Fuck.

I darted to another table where a more genteel – male I think? – sat bored and panting. Surely mutual disinterest was a better starting point? I turned back.

“How about him, he’s much prettier?”

But you enraptured him and cocked your head to tell me this battle was over before it began. “No I like her,” he cooed as you snorted on a rolled on your back.

The vow I made – that today’s preview of the brachiocephalic breeds was just a discussion, just an exploration – had been fruitless. You were in the backseat of the BMW coming home with us in less than an hour. Fuck.

Six years later, I still resent that you adore him but not me. That you come to him, but not to me. That you obey him, but ignore me. To be fair, the occasional butt wiggle, after I’ve been traveling for a week and burst through the front door, gives me hope – as does the equal amount of farting, regardless of which daddy is in the room. When he yells about your stubbornness or your paw licking or your constant demands for attention, I shrug – “you picked her.” As if to deflect the entirety of your best and worst self onto him.

And when, in the rare instance – you come to me for reassurance or try to sneak into bed or forget he isn’t home and have to remind me to feed you, I can see a hint of trust but mostly unwilling reliance. I take you to the vet, and the eye specialist, and the dermatologist. I pay for special food and medication – doing your evening regimen of eye drops, ear meds and even skin cream, long after he is passed out in bed, and I carry you to yours.

I’m jealous how you worship him and only tolerate me. But then again, he picked you.