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Dog-on Good Christmas Marketing

copyright 2009 comidacomida

Paul let out a deep sigh as he walked into the office. Something about coming to work at 8pm seemed fundamentally wrong to him. The fact that there was music playing and almost everyone was wearing casual clothes made it even more unnerving. It wasn't that Paul had anything against holiday parties--

"Hey, Paul." Casey grinned, walking past him with a mug of eggnog in one paw. Paul did not fail to notice the sprig of mistletoe tied around the base of the dalmatian's tail with a bright red ribbon.

Paul was finally able to list at least one thing he could officially say he objected to about office holiday parties. Shaking the sight (and, moreover, the implication) from his mind, the young man moved quickly past the entryway and into the main office space, which looked entirely different.

The cubicles had been folded and drawn back against the walls. Desks had been placed back-to-back and side-to-side to create little sections of holiday tables. Red, green, and white paper 'tablecloths' were tossed over each group of six desks, giving them an almost-believable faux table appearance.

"Not bad, eh Paul?" Mateo questioned, leaning against the door leading to the entryway, "A few hombres and I stayed late to help set up."

"It looks better than I thought it would." Paul answered honestly, pausing after the words came out to think if they could have sounded insulting; he thankfully decided they didn't come across that way, and Mateo's chuckle helped reinforce the idea that he wouldn't have to stick his foot in the mouth. One discussion down... about fifty to go before the night was over.

"Well, I'll catch ya later, amigo... I wanna see if Miranda is here yet... see what kinda props she gave me for my work on that photo shoot." he winked at Paul.

"Good luck. I'm pretty sure Mr. Aimes and Mr. Eizenzahn were very happy with how it turned out." Paul offered with a pre-prepared plastic, professional smile. Talking about work was never a bad thing; it was harmless and straight-forward and didn't involve any judgment calls or carefully tip-toeing around any sensitive topics.

"Well... luck has little to do with it if you're any guide." Mateo offered. The comment was not as casual as the rest of their talk, and Paul would have stopped to contemplate it further, but two soft furry paws grabbed him by the forearm and gave a tug.

"Paul!" it was Pascal, "I am so glad you are here, mon ami! Come! Come!" the petite poodle dragged him across the room over to a table where Eizenzahn was seated with Chris Aimes, the senior partner of the marketing firm.

"Ah, Pascal... I see you've found our photographer for me." the doberman noted matter-of-factly, creating a pause in the discussion he had been having with Mr. Aimes.

"Join us for a moment, will you, Paul?" Mr. Aimes motioned to one of the open seats. Pascal took the chair directly next to Alric. Paul strategically left a seat between himself and Pascal on one side and his very higher-up boss on the other.

"Merry Christmas." Paul offered blandly, unable to think of any suitable comment.

"Happy holidays." the AHB exec responded, "H.R. would have a fit if we called it a Christmas Party." the comment held an element of humor to it, but Mr. Aimes didn't seem to convey any in his demeanor.

"Oh... well... they call it Christmas Marketing, right?" Paul offered an attempt at levity... but it fell flat.

"Marketing and HR have different points of view on things." the executive responded.

"I am told that the director of the shoot, Miranda, I believe her name was, is very pleased with the end product." Alric quickly changed the discussion, much to Paul's undying gratitude. He tried to make it not-so-obvious that he was much happier when not being the center of attention.

"Indeed," noted Mr. Aimes, "but what WE think about it isn't nearly as important as your impression of the end product, Mr. Eizenzahn." the human executive offered quite eloquently.

"In my mind, it does." Alric countered, "If you are pleased with it when Mein Hund is not, then we have a difference in opinion that could cause problems. If we are pleased with it and you are pleased with it then we share a vision."

"Une vision artistique." Pascal added.

"Yes, very much so." Alric accepted the interruption, "Artistic vision is very important in our line of work, wouldn't you agree, Paul?"

Paul, who had been just begun to think that he would be able to slip away unnoticed, instantly sat up straight in his chair, mindful of the three sets of eyes on him. "Um... yes." Paul offered hesitantly.

"So you see, Mr. Aimes, this is why I would like Paul Miller to work on Mein Hund's next project with your firm."

"Next project?" Paul and the human executive spoke in unison.

Alric Eizenzahn's muzzle split into a confident smile, "Of course. If I have not already been clear enough, I am very pleased with Mr. Miller's artistic vision. He has shown that he can be quite adept at handling our chosen model, and I like what he has shown he can do with a camera."

Paul's head was reeling; there were any number of comments he would gladly have made at that moment but, for one of the few times in his life, Paul remained silent... thankfully.

"Our staff is at your disposal, Mr. Eizenzahn, but I am still a little concerned about putting such a..." Mr. Aimes looked to be searching for the right word. Paul would have happily thrown any number of adjectives out into the discussion: new, inexperienced, inept, untrained, unskilled, unproven-- but he didn't get the chance, "valuable member of our planning team into such an unorthodox position for him to hold."

Paul could have a series of puns off of the executive's comment, but he was too stunned to react. Valuable? Him? He was flattered... but it lasted all of five seconds when he realized what it was about; this was corporate negotiation. Even during what was supposed to be a holiday get-together mixed with a celebratory party for the ad release, business was still being done.

"Paul will stay on as a photographer full time, and we will discuss a marked increase in our renewed contract." Alric offered casually. Paul remained silent, but felt his heart beating in his chest. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was excited, or if the pressure was getting so bad his veins were going to rupture. He almost began to feel light-headed ~Maybe it's both...~ he wondered to himself.

"I'll need Mr. Miller for some other projects, so I'm afraid I can't commit him to a full time position." Mr. Aimes noted casually, "Perhaps you can make due with his 'artistic vision' as a lead consultant and ad designer instead? I have several other photographers who could substitute at other times."

"Done." the doberman nodded and, as if toasting the agreement, took a swig of the cider in his cup.

"Well... if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a few other guests to speak with." Mr. Aimes noted in a pleasant, though businesslike manner. Paul was willing to bet that Chris Aimes was off to break the news to the other partners. Paul wasn't sure how much a 'marked increase' was, but he was willing to bet it was significant.

After watching his boss' boss' boss move off at a measured pace, Paul looked back to the smiling muzzle of Alric, "Um...." was all Paul could manage.

"Psst... try 'thank you, Paul." Pascal grinned behind his paw as he whispered across the table to him.

"But... why me?" Paul asked, still dumbfounded by the arrangement.

"Have you seen the end result of your project?" Alric questioned.

"Well... no..." Paul answered back, "But... why me?" his mind couldn't seem to grasp why the doberman would want him to work on future projects with his limited time behind the camera, his limited skill, and the unprofessional way he had to bungle through days of activity. Alric offered no further explanation except to toss an open magazine down in front of him.

Paul looked at the open article, "A New Choice: Why some parents are choosing to have their pups keep their dewclaws." he read.

"Not THAT page, silly boy." Pascal giggled, pointing with a dainty digit to the page across from it. Paul gasped at what he saw.

Casey stared out at him from the ad, a white king held up in his paw, brown eyes gazing with a mirthful expression of success. The Mein Hund collar was visible in stark contrast to the dalmatian's colorless fur, and the logo was positioned perfectly above a section of unused frame. Within that space the advertised text was, "Because fashion is more than just fun and games." Paul spoke the words quietly. Looking up, he saw both Alric and Pascal smiling. "Who chose the caption?" he inquired of them.

Pascal's smile widened, "Moi." he giggled, "You didn't think I was just another pretty face, did you? Eizenzahn finds me useful in many, many ways." he offered in a way too suggestive to be entirely innocent. The poodle smoothed out his pink business suit. Paul didn't know exactly how many of the female suits the poodle had, but they were all pink, all had a very short skirt.

The fact that the poodle was a male surprised Paul at first and, judging from the fact that most of the staff at AHB still called him a 'she', he was relieved to know that he wasn't the only one the effeminate poodle had fooled. Paul did have to admit however that he was fully surprised by Pascal's contribution to the advertisement.

"I think that totally makes the ad." he didn't have to pretend to sound impressed; he truly liked the catch phrase, "Is that going to be a trademark line?" he asked Eizenzahn.

"No. We are going to try and avoid any of that... we want each piece to be something new and exciting. This," he motioned to the magazine, "is a new and exciting ad because you are new and exciting." the doberman smiled.

Paul blushed a little at the compliment... or, at least, what he hoped was a compliment, "But I won't be new and exciting anymore, because now I've done it."

Eizenzahn let out a short, simple laugh, but returned immediately to a poised, all-business attitude, "Paul, if you could see your face in a mirror at this moment, you will realize how untrue that statement is."

Pascal giggled at that behind a manicured paw, "You are wearing ze very surprised face now, beau garcon." the poodle patted the side of the human's face, "It is very cute." and he giggled again, making Paul blush.

"So... what now?" Paul asked Eizenzahn

"First, you say thank you." Pascal offered, "Then, you go celebrate." he smiled pleasantly.

"Oh... um... thank you, sir." Paul noted, feeling his face flush an embarrassed red.

"You are very welcome, Paul. Thank you as well... this ad would not be what it is now without your contribution." the doberman noted, "I know you will be able to do even more for us in the future, which is why I asked for you specifically."

Paul blushed even more, and gave a simple nod, "Thank you... thank you." he repeated, standing up and making as quick a get-away as he dared without looking rude. He made his way across the room, avoiding the center, which is where large numbers of his coworkers had gathered in little chat groups. The small, informal circles that people gathered in at parties always made Paul uncomfortable; people would sometimes try to drag him into one, and he could never find the right way to stand to be included but, more so, it was always hard to escape when the awkwardness became too much to bear.

"Hey, Paul..." a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and led him to an otherwise empty table. Mateo sat down with him, "Did you see the add yet?" there was a hint of something in his coworker's voice that Paul couldn't identify.

"Yea... it's... really something." Paul noted, feeling a little hesitant in not knowing what to say.

"It's bullshit, is what it is." Mateo fumed, tossing a copy of the magazine onto the table, "Complete mierda!"

Paul looked around uncomfortably as Mateo raised his voice. A few people nearby glanced their way, and it was all Paul could do to offer a hesitant smile to them. Mateo was known for being a hot-head, and hearing an explicative or two from him was nothing new. He returned his attention to his coworker, "It looks fine to me."

"Not the add, you culo... there." with that, Mateo pointed down at the bottom portion of the add where, in tiny letters Paul could barely make out, there appeared to be a small list of names.

"What's that?" Paul asked, peering closer at it.

"It's the credits, you tool!" Mateo fumed. That comment got a few more people turning to regard the discussion.

"Okay... okay... calm down, Mateo..." Paul tried to get his coworker to lower his voice, but he had very little luck.

"I worked on that fucking shoot the same as the rest of you... I stayed in here every night after everyone else went home to make sure dimensions, frame, and all that shit were right on!" Mateo noted, repeatedly jamming his index finger down onto the magazine, but at least his tone got quieter. Paul wished he were somewhere else, covering his face and looking down.

He would have given anything to be invisible... instead, in his infinite wisdom, he noticed something, and couldn't stop himself from saying it, "Your name isn't on here." It was the wrong thing to say.

"No shit!" Mateo's voice went up an octave, his frustration bleeding out of every pore, "I asked Miranda, and she said only top positions got named... Eight names, Paul... eight fucking names, and none of you did what I did!"

"You do a lot for the firm, Mateo... come on..." Paul tried to calm him in vain, "We appreciate you." That was also the wrong thing to say.

"Nobody fucking appreciates it, man! I thought you had my back! I thought we were friends!"

"We are, Mateo... what do you mean? Why wouldn't I--?"

"I already heard the news... don't fuck with me like that. They're making you lead consultant and head designer... you KNOW that's what I should be doing, Paul... That's what *I* should be doing, not you!"

"I..." Paul was at a loss for words, "I don't even know what that is." he offered helplessly. It was the worst possible thing to say.

"See what I mean, man?" Mateo collapsed in his chair, much of his rage having spilled over, he covered his face with a hand, "I've been here longer than you... I know more about this kind of thing than you... fuck... I don't know why I'm even angry at you... you don't know enough to stab me in the back."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Paul hazarded a stab at humor which, to his everlasting thanks, worked out better than his other attempts at calming Mateo.

"I'm sorry, bro... it's just..." Mateo let out a sigh, sitting forward as he started to talk more reasonably, "I've been doing this... what... about five, six years? And... and it just really pisses me off that you come along and walk right into the position."

"I'm sorry, Mateo... it's not like I was trying to steal it." Paul apologized, starting to feel just as uncomfortable discussing it as being yelled at.

"I know..." Mateo's fingers drummed on the table with agitation, "that doesn't exactly make it easier though, does it?"

Paul paused for a moment, trying to come up with some way of diffusing the potentially hostile situation, "Well... what about working with me on the next project?" he asked Mateo, "I mean... you are the best guy here at what you do, and if I'm some kind of director or something, then I get a say in what happens with the project, right?"

Mateo said nothing in response so Paul continued, "And, when the next ad comes out, I can make sure that you get credit... I mean... everyone here knows you worked hard, and you deserve some recognition, right?"

"Damn right." Mateo noted with a nod, slumping down in his chair, "Listen, Paul... I'm sorry about... you know... coming after you for it. I know you're not that kinda guy... just... some of the stuff going on around here since the whole My Hund thing--"

Paul almost corrected Mateo, but thought better of it.

"It's just a lot of changes, comprende, amigo?" the fact that Mateo was adding spanish back into his talk was a good sign.

"Yea... I understand." Paul replied. Mateo held a fist up, pointed out at him, and Paul smiled, giving it a sound bump with his own.

"Good looking out for me, hermano... hope I didn't screw with your night." Mateo stood up and gave Paul a hardy pat on the shoulder, "Ray's been moping about in his office all night... you're good with Dogs... go see what's up with him."

The comment stopped Paul in his tracks. He was just about to ask the departing Mateo about what he meant, but his coworker was pulled to the side by a group of network technicians. AHB had a standing contract with an information technology company, and they were making good use of it in improving the computers before year end. Mateo, the most technologically minded of the staff, was their go-to guy.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Paul recognized Miranda's voice behind him.

"Huh?" he questioned, looking back at her. Miranda's hair was as kool-aid red as ever, but she appeared otherwise much more presentable than normal. Paul had never seen her in a dress, and he had to admit that she had a figure for it. She was smiling as she looked past him, nodding with her head toward Mateo, "The blind leading the seeing."

"What? What do you mean?" he asked, looking after the four network technicians being led away by Mateo, "Oh... what do you say that?"

"Because he knows next-to-nothing about computers." Miranda noted with a grin.

"He knows more than I do." Paul admitted.

"Then you must REALLY be clueless." she laughed. Paul realized that the staff director was much calmer, and decidedly more personable after hours. The eggnog probably helped too, "Anyway," she continued, "I think they'd be better NOT having a company contact... I mean, I turned Mr. Burke down when he suggested I do it."

Paul paused at Miranda's reference to one of the partners, "Mr. Burke asked you to handle the network... um... thing?"

"Upgrade." Miranda noted, "Yes, but I told him I wasn't interested."

"Why not?" Paul questioned.

"Because he thought I'd be good at it because I'm asian." she noted, folding her arms. Miranda was, in fact, half asian, but it wasn't so noticeable that Paul was aware of it at first. He tried his best to avoid looking incredibly embarrassed the day Mateo had brought it up, but Paul was pretty sure that he had failed miserably.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked her.

"It seemed like a racist stereotype." Miranda answered with a shrug.

"But... aren't you good with computers?"

"Yes."

"Ugh..." Paul slumped into a chair, "I've finally figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Miranda sat down next to him with a half-smirk on her face.

"You west-coasters are all undeniably, certifiably, and completely insane."

Miranda laughed at the comment, "Maybe, but I think that helps us all get through the day."

"I thought that's what Starbucks was for." Paul offered, a faint smile finding its way to his lips.

"That's to START the day." Miranda corrected, "and for a pick-me-up before lunch... and after lunch... and during break... and around 4..."

"Sounds like you have a drinking problem." Paul grinned.

"No, I can drink just fine... my six double-shot espresso-a-day habit is proof of that." Miranda countered, and they shared a laugh. Silence fell on them as neither said anything, and Paul began to feel uncomfortable with her next to him, her eyes focused exclusively on his face. He thought he saw her blushing a little too, which made him blush all the more.

"Anyway... uh..." Paul began.

"Anyway," she interrupted him, "I think I'd better go check in on everyone... you know... make the rounds and everything. Great work on the photo shoot, Paul. Oh..." she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, "and Merry Christmas."

Paul said nothing as she literally skipped off, but he felt his face burning with a deep blush. His hand went up to his cheek, and he was certain that he would have blushed even more if it were humanly possible. Miranda... kissed him? It was a friendly kiss, he was sure of it. It must have been. She kissed him because they were under the mistletoe. Looking up, he didn't see any. He stood and headed off toward where Mateo said Ray would be. He was certain he must have been reading too much into things, and he tried to clear his head as he moved to Ray's office door.

Ray was inside the office and seated at his desk. The golden retriever was facing out the window, phone held up to his ear, talking quietly. Paul didn't purposefully try to listen in, but the acoustics of the room were good enough that he heard a few words from Ray about 'seven years last night', and 'I miss her'. The Dog sat, staring out the window, listening to whatever the other party had to say.

Paul hesitantly cleared his throat. Ray's ears raised slightly and he half turned. He said something into the receiver, and hung up, "Oh... Paul..." the Dog noted, running a paw across his face before rotating his chair around to face the door, "I didn't see you there. Come on in." Ray offered a half-hearted smile.

"Everything okay?" he asked, hesitantly accepting the offer to enter the office. He stood behind one of the chairs at Ray's desk, resting his hands on the backing.

"Yea..." Ray answered, "Just doing some late business calls." the retriever offered. Paul didn't have the heart to tell him how bad of a liar he was. Regardless, his voice had other ways of expressing it.

"Who do you miss?" he asked of the Dog, inwardly wincing at the blatant, tactless curiosity, "I mean..." he offered helplessly, realizing it was too late to withdraw the question.

Ray let out a deep sigh and motioned to the chair Paul stood behind, "Sit.". Paul obediently took a seat while Ray fumbled through a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a delicate-looking piece of jewelery and set it down in front of Paul. Ray made a subtle motion with his muzzle, but Paul had come to understand the non-verbal cue, and picked it up. A golden locket in the shape of a heart was attached to a gold chain.

Without any further direction, Paul flipped open the locket, and saw an engraving formed of flowing script inside which read "I love you." Paul looked down at what must have been a treasured possession for the retriever. It was clear enough to Paul what its significance was. "Whose was it?" he asked the Dog.

"My wife's." Ray replied, the fur near his eyes damp, "She passed away seven years ago." the faintest hint of a canine whine accompanying the words. The Dog swallowed noticeably, "This time of year isn't as merry as it used to be." his graying muzzle perked for half a second in a humorless smile.

Paul said nothing, gently placing the locket back down onto the desk and sliding it back to the Dog, "I'm sorry, Ray... I can't imagine..." truly, Paul couldn't, but he also had no idea how to finish the statement. He wasn't very good with that kind of thing, "I never knew you had been married." he added, as empathetically as he could.

The golden retriever nodded as he reverently placed the locket away, "Funny how many things you don't know about someone even though you've worked with them for the better part of a year, isn't it?" he asked, wiping under an eye with an index finger.

"Yea..." Paul nodded, head lowered slightly, "If... if you don't mind me asking... what happened? To your wife, I mean?" he looked back up to Ray, who was leaning back in his chair, looking toward the ceiling.

"Cancer."

"Oh... that... that's...." Paul fumbled for the right thing to say, but come up empty, "...oh."

"That's why I don't talk about it very much." Ray responded, "It's not exactly a comfortable topic for anyone."

"But it's important," Paul countered, "I mean... we're friends, right? And that's the kind of thing you can share with your friends."

"We're coworkers, Paul." Ray noted.

"Coworkers can be friends... I mean, Mateo and I--" his comment slowly drifted off as he and Ray locked gazes. Ray's stare was a bland one, that all but begged the question 'are you sure?', but Paul, reviewing the last discussion he shared with Mateo, made him raise the same question himself.

The two sat in silence for a time once their gazes broke. Ray let out a deep sigh, and reached into his desk. Sensing a change in tone, Paul was not able to let things remain as they had turned-out, "Ray... I..."

Ray smiled, more genuinely than the other smiles Paul had seen from him that night, "Don't worry so much about it, Paul... being a coworker isn't a bad thing... I consider you a good coworker-- isn't that good enough?"

Paul appraised the question for a moment, and he would have happily smiled at the pleasant dismissal, but something inside him wasn't willing to let it rest, "No."

Ray raised an eyebrow as both of his ears went up, "No?"

Paul kicked himself for causing yet another awkward moment for himself-- the night had started off so well at the first discussion, and everything seemed to be getting only harder. In the end, he only had himself to blame, "I don't have a lot of friends out here. I don't know about how good a judge of character I am, but I know I'd like you for one."

"An old Dog like me, huh?" Ray cracked a wry grin, "God only knows why." the retriever let out a sigh.

"Because you're a good dog." Paul offered with a grin. He stifled a laugh when Ray's tail started to beat against the back of the chair, much to Ray's chagrin, and reddening ears.

The Dog stood, "That's bordering on racism, you know." but the smile on the retriever's muzzle gave away the lack of seriousness to it, not to mention the tail, which continued wagging.

"I'm still getting used to all of the specifics on human/Dog relations." Paul shrugged, "You're not gonna sue me, are you?"

Ray reached into the open drawer and pulled out something made out of red and white cloth before closing it, "Nah... I'll let you off with a warning this time, Dakota."

"Dakota?" Paul asked in confusion. Ray moved over to stand in front of Paul; only then did the young man realize what the dog held in his paw: a santa hat.

"Yea... you ARE from the midwest, don'cha'kno?" the retriever answered, adding a drawl to combine the last three words into one. He set the santa hat onto Paul's head.

"But I'm not from the Dakotas." Paul objected.

"Live with it." Ray answered, moving a few more inches forward to touch his nose to Paul's. The human blushed immediately at the action, "I always use nicknames for my friends."

"Didn't you--?" but Paul couldn't finish his comment as Ray headed out into the main room.

"Thanks for talking with me." Ray offered, his tail still wagging gently. There was still a sadness to Ray, but the retriever looked better as he made his way in to join the crowd.

Paul stood in the empty office several more moments, feeling blush deepen as he realized that the dog's nose touched something deeper than his face; it touched his heart, "Dakota..." he mused to himself, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he went back out into the party; the hat had to get back to its owner, Paul's friend.

* * * * *

It was close to eleven when Paul finally got out of the office. The holiday party went well, but Paul was quick to leave when the dancing started. Casey had wandered around the gathering, flaunting his mistletoe. When asked about it, Casey mentioned that he had it handy in case a police office asked him if he'd been drinking; Paul wasn't sure if there weren't other implications for it as well.

At some point, Paul had managed to give Ray his santa hat back. Though he didn't say anything, Paul thought it looked somehow fitting for the older retriever. Between the sweater, undershirt, slacks, and graying muzzle, Ray could have passed as a new-age, office-worthy santa, and the idea had stuck with Paul all night, adding to his good cheer.

The three senior partners of AHB made their showing part way through the party. They formally announced the new team for the next Mein Hund project. Paul learned that Ray was going to cover the majority of the photography while he himself would be co-managing the shoots with Miranda, who smiled across the room at him. In the throes of his embarrassment, Paul failed to hear the other main names for the project, but there was a call for pictures to be taken.

Standing with him for the picture of the up-coming Mein-Hund project were Eizenzahn and Pascal, Casey, Ray, and Mateo. Ray was set to take a picture, but Miranda made a joke about how it'd cost to much to have a professional do it, so she wanted Paul to instead. A good laugh was had all around, but how close-to-home the humor was did not help his confidence, and it certainly had a varying response from the others. Eizenzahn rested a paw on his shoulder, offering him a quick word of encouragement before Miranda's resounding "cheese!", and she took the picture herself.

But that was all in the past, and Paul was glad for it. Making the last turn before his condo, Paul's sense of relief and satisfaction at a night-finally-done was only heightened by the unabashed joy he saw at seeing Tanner's car parked on the curb. The young man pulled into his driveway, locked his car, and went inside. The sound of the television led him into the living room, where Tanner was seated on the sofa, one ear turned toward him, and the other toward the television.

The show was one that Paul had never really gotten into. Daytime talk shows were not something he particularly enjoyed, and Jerry Springer Spaniel was certainly the epitome of a daytime talk show. The fact that it was on after eleven meant that it must have been a rerun.

"Hey..." Tanner noted simply.

"Hey..." Paul couldn't say the word without smiling. He knelt down behind the sofa and embraced his boyfriend, inhaling deeply at the back of the german shepherd's neck, enjoying the scent of him, "You're a nice surprise."

"I forgot you had your party tonight." Tanner answered.

"You forgot something? Impossible." Paul smiled. He kept hold of Tanner, hopping over the back of the sofa and onto the cushions beside the Dog.

"It's been a tough week." Tanner responded, letting out a sigh.

"It MUST be tough if you're watching Jerry." Paul answered, looking back to the television just as it was going to a commercial, studio audience fanatically shouting the host's name "Jer-ry! Jer-ry! Jer-ry!"

"Yea... I got my paycheck early." Tanner noted, holding it up in a paw.

"Oh... tough week, getting paid early." Paul rolled his eyes with a chuckle, resting his head against his boyfriend's shoulder, "So... Jerry is jewish, right?"

"That's what I heard." Tanner nodded, putting the check back on the end table.

"So... if a jews have their sons circumcised, what happens with a Dog when--" the humorous statement faltered when he suddenly realized what Tanner was hinting not-so-subtlety at, "You got FIRED?!?!"

"No... 'let go'." Tanner corrected, though it seemed to make little difference since the result was the same, "The store shut down."

"Why?" Paul asked, sliding his hand into the grasp of the Dog, "I mean... when? How?"

"This morning. We showed up for work, and they handed us our paychecks." Tanner let out a deep sigh, "The winter traffic wasn't anywhere near what the store needed and I guess management figured it just wasn't worth it anymore... so they're closed, and we're all out of jobs."

"So... now what?" Paul asked, giving his boyfriend's paw a light squeeze.

"No idea." Tanner shrugged, eyes coming away from the TV to look at Paul. The human could see the hurt, confusion, indecision, and worry in the Dog's eyes, and it hurt him to see Tanner so disheveled. "I mean... I've been working there since I was a junior in high school... that's a pretty long time. I put myself through my first year of college working there."

Paul let their gaze separate as the show came back on. He sat beside Tanner, casually watching the show, trying to wordlessly offer his support, knowing that the Dog would speak up when the time was right. Tanner sighed a few times during the show, and even managed a scornful snort when Jerry introduced a surprised guest: the sister of a woman's boyfriend, with whom she'd been sleeping, "Where do they come up with this stuff?" Tanner asked.

"I think real life." Paul offered.

"Scary to think that there are some places where that kind of thing happens." the Dog noted.

"Well... with everything going on in MY life, sometimes I think I could be a guest on Springer." Paul shrugged, "But... what about you?" he turned more fully toward Tanner and took the Dog's paw into both his hands, "What do you want to do now?"

Tanner shrugged, and slowly took his paw back, "Not sure... I mean... I guess I just figured I'd keep working at the store until--" the Dog paused, and a half-smile came to his muzzle, "I guess... I never really thought about what the 'until' was. I didn't ever plan for an 'until'."

"Then how about 'until the shop closes'?" Paul offered.

"Yea..." Tanner chuckled, reaching an arm across Paul's shoulders to embrace him, "until the shop closes."

Paul leaned against the Dog, "I don't like seeing you like this. I wish I could do something to help."

"Close your eyes... that'd help." Tanner offered slyly, "Then you wouldn't have to see me, and that'd help."

"I meant about helping YOU, silly Dog." Paul smirked, pleased that the Dog was in good enough spirits to at least offer a joke.

"You already are helping." Tanner said quietly, lowering his muzzle down over Paul's head, letting out another, quieter, calmer sigh. Paul smiled, and offered no comment in return.

The two continued watching the show. To Paul, it was like passing a wreck on the highway: too horrible to look away. Thankfully, Paul had plenty of willpower when it came to such shows, and kept most of his attention on Tanner. "What do you WANT to do?"

"Wha?" Tanner glanced down at him, attention pulled from the show.

"Well," Paul began, "You said you planned on working at the store 'until'. Now that the 'until' came and went, this could be like a new beginning."

"A new beginning without enough money for a rent payment in two months." Tanner offered, though the comment came out more like a joke than a true lament, but Paul could tell that it still bothered the Dog.

"I have two spare rooms, so I think at least one should be open. Problem solved." Paul put his hand on Tanner's chest and ran his fingers through the fur.

Tanner pulled back slightly looking down into Paul's eyes, "I'll find something, Paul... I don't want to be a charity case."

Paul blushed a little, unable to look at Tanner as he spoke, "Maybe I was looking for a pretense."

"A pretense?" Tanner asked.

"Yea... it means an excuse or fake reason."

"I know what it means, you doofus." Tanner poked Paul's stomach with a claw, eliciting a very unflattering screech from the human. The young man quickly rolled over to push more of his weight atop Tanner as he struggled to grab at the Dog's wrists.

"No fair, that was an unsolicited poke." Paul accused.

"Oh... you were DEFINITELY asking for it." Tanner smiled wide, his teeth glinting in the light of the television. It was a predatory grin, but Paul could tell he was after a very specific kind of prey.

"And what is 'it' that I'm asking for?" Paul countered, smiling wryly back, just a little jealous of Tanner's muzzle's expressiveness; he wished he could grin like that.

"A poke." the Dog responded.

It didn't take long for them to get out of their clothes; Paul wriggled out of his easily enough but Tanner had a harder time since Paul was half on top of him. In the end, the human helped his lover with his pants, and slid more fully over him, hips resting on the Dog's thighs. Tanner's head was laying against one of the arm rests, tail curled to the side as he lay on his back.

Paul leaned forward and his lips met his lover's muzzle. He felt Tanner's tongue slide into his mouth, and the Dog's body shook hungrily for him, having been without the feel of Tanner's naked, furry form against his in almost a week. From the feel of the Dog's full sheath, he could tell that Tanner was just as eager. Releasing a soft 'mmm' against the tongue in his mouth, Paul slid his fingers lightly down Tanner's abdomen before encircling the Dog's sheath.

Tanner broke the kiss, exhaling quickly as his hips hunched forward, his sheath pressing firmly into Paul's palm, and the young man smiled, sliding his fingers more securely around it, and letting the movement of Tanner's hips release the Dog's member. Without having to be told, Paul nimbly pulled down against Tanner's groin at the last moment, freeing the dog's knot into the open, and he was rewarded by a satisfied mrr from his lover.

"You amaze me." Tanner said, looking up at Paul, eyes half-lidded, practically drunk with eagerness.

"I hope that's a good thing." Paul smiled down at the Dog, a slight blush coming to his face. He gently gripped the firm shaft that had fully emerged from Tanner's sheath, and began to softly stroke it, even as he touched his own excited member. Caressing them in unison, he began to gently rock his pelvis in counterpoint with Tanner's, reveling in the feel of the way the dog's smooth groin fur caressed his hips.

"It's a very good thing." Tanner smiled, gazing up at Paul, earlier worries forgotten; the two were sharing something that banished all the fears and concerns of the world beyond what was happening at that moment.

"You'll stay the night, won't you?" Paul asked, more than willing to let the words substitute for what he was suggesting, slowly halting the caress of his boyfriend's flesh as he rose up to his knees, weight no longer on the Dog's thighs.

"Is that another pretense?" Tanner asked, a wide grin crossing his muzzle.

"I'm still a little too shy to tell you 'I want to feel you inside me.'." Paul could feel his entire face burst into color.

Tanner only responded with a soft, rumbling, growling mrrr, and slowly squirmed himself further down the sofa, until Paul could reach back behind himself and feel the Dog's crotch fur with his hand. He circled his lover's sac with his fingers, gently cradling the Tanner's endowments, making the Dog shiver in response. The tips of his fingers slowly walked their way up to the base of Tanner's knot, and manipulated it enough to adjust the angle of the Dog's shaft. He felt it brush against his testicles, press against his thigh, then slide across his rump until he felt the tip tickle up against his entrance.

"Paul..." Tanner breathed, closing his eyes as he clenched then relaxed his muzzle, "I want you..."

"You have me." Paul whispered back, and he slowly lowered himself, feeling his lover's quickened pulse in each inch of the shaft as it entered him. Paul and Tanner's moans joined as one even as their bodies did, and it took only one try for Paul to accent the Dog's entire length into his body, settling down with their hips together, Tanner's knot resting against his opening.

Paul rested one of his feet on the floor as he repositioned himself, the flexibility of Tanner's sheath giving the Dog's member some degree of give as the young man slid more of his body against his lover, resting his groin against the Dog's abdomen, and arching his back slightly so he could look Tanner in the eyes. The deep pools of brown seemed almost black in the dim light coming from the television, show completely forgotten, "I am so addicted to you."

The Dog smiled softly in response, and Paul could tell that Tanner's ears were darkening in a blush, "Me too." He felt furry paws caress his back as his lover embraced him, and felt the self-same paws grip onto his shoulders from their embracing position behind him, and Tanner nuzzled his face, beginning to slowly undulate beneath him.

Paul gasped and moaned as Tanner's hips moved, every motion causing the Dog's flesh to slide first deeper into him, then slide almost completely out. At the same time, his own member was caressed by the thick fur of Tanner's belly, tickling him in so many ways with each movement of the Dog's hips, and every inhale and exhale his lover made.

"Mmm... sit up, Paul... this is gonna... drive me crazy." Tanner gasped between words, a faint froth appearing at the corner of his lips as saliva dribbled from his muzzle. The Dog continued to try to hump up into him, Paul realized that his position made it impossible for Tanner to get a good angle. The Dog slowly released the embrace, giving the human an opportunity to change positions.

Paul sat up more fully, pressing his side against the back of the sofa while he set one foot onto the carpeted floor. Tanner groaned beneath him as Paul pushed off with his foot and gripped at the backing of the couch, spinning around on the Dog's hips until he was sitting in his boyfriend's lap. "What are--?" Tanner began, but he didn't have a chance to finish the thought as Paul stood. The human felt his lover shudder as inch after inch of the canine shaft slid free of him.

"This." Paul said, standing in front of Tanner, looking down at the prone Dog. He reached down and took hold of one of Tanner's paws, pulling his boyfriend up into a seated position. Complying without a single objection, the dog watched Paul, ears (and another body part) at stiff attention. Smiling, Paul turned around slowly and sat down in Tanner's lap as if the Dog were an armchair. He slid a hand underneath himself until he felt the slick, eager, exposed shaft, and rocked first one way on the Dog's lap, then the other, the tip of tanner's flesh slipping into him once again.

It was a strange position, practically impossible to do with a human lover, but Tanner was not human. The Dog's shaft slid deep into Paul, who moaned as Tanner nuzzled the side of his jaw, muzzle resting on his shoulder from behind, "Oh god..." Paul moaned as one of Tanner's paws found its way around his hips, and began to softly caress his member.

"Dyslexic, are you?" Tanner murmured against Paul's neck, hot breath exciting him further, "It's 'dog', not 'god'."

"Stealing my lines now... are you?" Paul asked, sliding one arm up and over himself to caress the back of Tanner's head. Tanner's hips had been rocking back and forth, forcing the Dog's flesh in and out of Paul, but he suddenly thrust upward, almost moving to a standing position, and Paul let out a silent cry as he felt the dog's unimpeded knot force its way into him.

"I'll call you whatever you want..." Paul breathed, "Just... don't stop." his entire body was shivering from the touch of the Dog's paw. The pain from Tanner's knot entering him was impossible to ignore, but the other sensations quickly washed away any remaining hurt as he was overpowered by the sense of tightness starting to flare across his groin like a fire stoked by Tanner's skilled paw.

Tanner behind him chuckled, but it was a tense one. Paul could feel his lover's muscles begin to bunch with urgency. Paul rested his head back against Tanner's shoulder, whispering softly to him as he closed his eyes, urging him on, silently reveling in the Dog's eagerness and the attention he received from his lover. He felt the furred chest press against his back, and the quickness of Tanner's breath... and then all sensations were overpowered by one single feeling.

Paul cried out as he felt his release. He pressed his back against Tanner's heaving chest, his hips grinding down into his lover's quivering groin. The Dog's paw did not cease stroking him, becoming coated in his fluid and smearing it all over him as it continued to coax more and more from him. Paul was reduced to a whimper as he felt Tanner give another powerful shove, and the Dog's knot slid a fraction of an inch deeper, causing the human's pinned prostate to convulse, releasing a single jet of semen more than half way to the tv, and making a very satisfied Paul collapse back against his partner, who had finally give in and groaned his way through his own orgasm.

Paul closed his eyes, his breath steadying as he reveled in the feel of Tanner quivering beneath him, the dog's pulsing member jetting thick liquid warmth into him. The Dog managed another two or three half-hearted thrusts, each accompanied by another spray of semen into the young man before both collapsed backwards, Paul against Tanner, and Tanner against the sofa.

"I needed that..." Tanner whispered, gingerly licking Paul's ear as the two lay back, tied.

"Me too, pup... me too." Paul smiled, resting against his lover as he enjoyed the warmth of the afterglow, and the body heat from his lover on the cold night. He barely noticed that Jerry Springer Spaniel was back on... they had coupled for the remainder of the show, and it was ending.

"Thank you all for tuning in, and now I leave you with today's final thought." the graying, golden furred dog noted, pushing a pair of circular spectacles further up the bridge of his muzzle. He was dressed in his usual sports coat, and was seated on a stool with a false brick background behind him, completed with the "Jerry Springer Spaniel" sign hung askew.

Jerry continued as the camera panned in, " It's said that you can fall easily into love. If that's true, then you can just as easily fall out of love. Love is not an easy thing; it is something you have to work at every day. Only when both people are willing to make a relationship work can they experience the fullness of what love has to offer. As always, take care of yourself, and each other."

"Okay..." Tanner noted with a soft yawn.

"Okay what?" Paul asked, half asleep from the warmth of his lover against his back.

"Okay, but you're helping me move."

Despite the trials and tribulations of the holiday party at work, Paul still counted it as one of the best nights of his life.