The Lives of the Animals

[Note: this story was selected to appear at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival (SEAF 2025) and appears in the SEAF Literary Art Anthology 2025.]

“How about this place?” she said, not turning to look at him. The strands of synthetic fur from her long, dark coat rippled with the gesture of her arm, a shimmering on the edge of his peripheral vision. Marcus tried not to stare but failed, just as he had all evening: he was entranced the way her agile body moved, a feral presence dancing beneath a costume shell.

He hesitated at her question, anxious at the prospect of another awkward conversation, but he recognized the stakes. Dinner had been uneventful, entirely devoid of sparks, and the stroll he had proposed was not proving to be any better. Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the threat of rain, perhaps it was the things he had said or neglected to say. In his anxious tally of the evening’s progress, he had decided the date was already lost; this was a last chance for redemption.

“Sure,” he said, forcing a smile. She turned towards him, as if about to say something, but turned back to push open the heavy door with both her arms. The bar was one of the older places in the area, reminiscent of an era when people stayed downtown after work to blow off steam or meet up with secret lovers. After so many rounds of endless lockdowns, though, the tall buildings now hemorrhaged their occupants at precisely five o’clock, the streets filling with anxious faces desperate to return to the safety of their homes. The only people left in bars like this were the professional alcoholics and clueless tourists, the latter group hoping to find a glimpse of nightlife within walking distance of their hotels. There was, though, a bit of charm to this particular place, with its vast circular bar at the center of the establishment, surrounding a three-story tower of vintage wines.

“Would you like a table?” the host asked with a smile, an eager young man dressed in a tailored vest and bowtie, with colors matching the purple shade of the bar’s décor.

“Nah, we’ll just go for the bar,” she said, already striding towards it. “This really is the best part of this place,” she continued, turning to look at him now and smiling slightly again.

“It is,” he said, noticing the lightening of her mood and feeling some measure of relief. They picked a pair of barstools distant from the small number of other customers. “And their wine selection is incredible.”

“Obviously,” she said with a smirk, looking up at the tower of bottles above them.

He smiled and was reaching for the menu when he felt something soft brush against his feet. Looking down, he saw a tender snout pushing its nose into his leg with gentle but insistent pressure. It turned out to be the curious end of a small, speckled dog in a bright pink collar, with the distinctive coloring and flattened backside of an Australian Shepherd.

“Oh, hello there!” he said, his voice rising a full octave. Sliding down from his stool and crouching, he held his hand out for the dog to sniff, but the animal dispensed with the formalities and pushed her soft jaw into his hand.

“Well, aren’t you friendly!” he said with a laugh. He moved his hand to give the dog’s head and ears a quick rub. He made an attempt to return to his stool and his date, but as he started to get up, she lifted a paw and held on to his forearm, looking up into his eyes.

“Oh, do you want more pets, then? Well, since you’re asking so nicely,” Marcus said with a laugh. He crouched back down, and now, emboldened, the little dog pushed its warm body between his legs, still smiling up at him. He used both his hands to push the dog’s ears back and stroke the fur down to her neck, along her back and towards her tail. She jumped up to lick his face and he pulled away as soon he felt her wet tongue, laughing. “Who’s a good girl?” he said, “Who’s a good girl?” The dog’s smile widened and her happy tongue rolled out to the side.

When he looked up he noticed the host standing next to him. “I’m so sorry about that,” the young man said, “she’s very friendly and just has to meet everyone who comes in. I hope she didn’t shed too much on your nice pants?”

“Oh no worries,” he said, getting up and back onto the barstool, brushing his thighs of her fur. “She’s such a good girl!”

“Yes, she is,” the host said with a bright smile. “Her name’s Luna, she followed me home one day from work, no collar or chip or anything, and I’ve had her ever since.”

“Oh, she chose you,” Marcus said, “I love that!”

The host smiled again and led the dog back to a hidden corner of the bar. Marcus’ gaze followed her as she settled into her bed and folded her snout into her legs.

His date had been paying close attention to the interchange, watching every expression as it moved across his face. “How interesting,” she said.

“Oh?” he asked, still glowing from the brief interaction.

“I just wonder how it is for them, you know -- the lives of the animals. To have people show them that kind of love, without any sort of introduction, and then just leave, to never see them again.”

“Well, that’s just what I love about dogs,” he said. “They’re pure love, you know, they’re naturally affectionate.”

“Are they? Or is that just what we tell ourselves because it’s what we desire from them, and we don’t think about how it might affect them.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” he said, frowning. “I think they’re genuinely happy to meet strangers and feel their love.”

“And they’re just as happy to have that love taken away a few minutes later?” she said, wrinkling her forehead in a skeptical smile.

“Well, no, but I don’t think they’re really thinking about you all that much once you’re gone.”

“So you’re saying they have no memory of you?” she asked.

He looked off to the side, thinking. “No, that’s a fair point, they do; I mean there have been dogs I know who are so happy to see me even after having met me only once before.” He frowned, considering the implications of what she was suggesting.

“So maybe they’re just good at letting go,” she said, leaning her head to the side and circling a finger on the surface of the bar. “Or better than we are, anyway,” she continued with a laugh. “And you – you’re also genuinely happy to feel the love of these dogs you meet, is that correct?”

“Of course!” he said, relaxing again.

“So why is it so different with people, then?”

“Excuse me? What do you mean?” he asked, pulling his head back in surprise.

“Well,” she said, turning away and twisting a lock of her hair around her finger, “I can tell you like me, or at least that you’re attracted to me. You’ve been staring all night – it’s not subtle.” She turned to face him and smiled as he blushed. “And yet after hours of conversation you can barely make eye contact with me, whereas with Luna back there you were all over each other in five seconds flat, making out with tongue and everything!”

“Well, that’s different,” he said, feeling even more color rushing to his face.

“Is it?” she said, looking off to the distance again. “I mean, maybe it is. But then I wonder, why is that? What makes it so different?”

“Well for one, you’re a thinking being, with boundaries and opinions and…”

“But don’t I need affection too?” she pouted, blinking her long eyelashes in a cartoonish flirtation.

He swallowed and looked at his hands. “Sure, I mean, it’s just complicated – you know how it is, you meet someone, I like you, you don’t like me…”

“But I do like you,” she said, a smirk on her lips.

His mouth opened in a bewildered half smile as he looked at her now, blinking three times in rapid succession. “Um, ok, well, I’m just shy, I guess, and…”

“You weren’t shy with Luna, were you? You just held your hand out and then when she approached you, you got right in there!”

“I… well…” he stuttered with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, I’m not trying to put you on the spot or anything,” she said, smiling, and looking off into the distance again. “I’m just wondering, you know, what is it that’s so different about me?”

“Sure, well you know…” he said, gesturing outwards with his hand. Before he could pull it back, she dropped her chin into his palm just as the dog had, looking up at him with wide open eyes.

“Is it the aggressive invitation?” she asked. “But no,” she continued, frowning, “you still don’t seem to be reacting the same way, hmm.”

“Um… what are you doing…” he said, his eyes darting around to see who might be watching them.

“Maybe it’s about how she put her whole body right up against you,” and with a rapid motion accompanied by a whisper of synthetic fur, she ducked her head and moved her whole body under and past his hand so she could press herself against him, rubbing her head into his neck.

He froze for a moment longer, still looking around nervously, but as the warmth of her body penetrated through him, he felt a curious sense of calm radiate through his limbs. He let his arms fall around her back, feeling the long fur of her jacket slide between his fingers and the smooth muscles of her back stretch against his touch. She made a small sound of pleasure, and closing his eyes, he guided both of his hands to smooth the hair around her head, along her neck, and down her back, just as he had done with Luna.

“Ahhhh,” she said, “that’s more like it. There’s just one more thing.”

“What’s that?” he said, feeling himself tense up again.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me I’m a good girl?” she said, pouting again.

He laughed, relaxing further against her body. “Oh, you are a good girl.”

Her face lit up with a smile; she closed her eyes and raised her shoulders up around her neck, basking in the compliment. Then, with her head still against his neck, she turned her face upwards towards him. Pressing her lips against his cheek, she darted her tongue between her teeth to give his face the briefest of licks, then pushed herself back to her own barstool. Marcus froze in place: it had happened so fast he wasn’t quite sure whether the sudden wetness was just in his imagination.

“Um, did you just, um, lick me?” he asked.

“Wow, I’ve never seen someone turn so completely red so quickly,” she laughed, ignoring his question. “So, should we get that drink?” she continued, turning to look down at the menu as if nothing had happened.

He reached over and put a hand on her forearm, looking her fully in the eyes for the first time. “I’m thinking maybe we could go somewhere else for… um… dessert… instead?”

She leaned into him briefly, closing her eyes again. “Oh, now that,” she said, “might be the cutest thing you’ve said all night.” She grabbed his hand and met his eyes, smiling as she saw him hold her gaze. “Let’s get out of here.”