My Dark Secret

I have a dark secret: I stalk my neighbor’s dog. His name is Toby and he’s a wire fox terrier. The dog, that is, not my neighbor. My neighbor is a nice elderly man named Mark. I know this because when I first introduced myself to Toby, Mark offered his name and address. Mark is married to Anna who is equally warm to strangers such as me.

Toby is a good dog. He has curly white hair with caramel and grey spots and a cute black nose that wriggles and sniffs. He has a little clipped tail nub that wags when he’s petted. He likes to walk on a leash, bark at squirrels, walk over to groups of people to see what all the fuss is about, but mostly he can be found patiently watching his parents as they stop to talk with other neighbors. On the rare occasion when Mark and Anna are taking a walk without him, he likes to sit in their front window and watch them to make sure they're okay. His two front paws will be rested on the windowsill and his little nose will be fogging up the glass. He can barely reach the window. That is my favorite glimpse of Toby and the scene I watch. I've been known to ask my sweetie, Chris, “What goes on in that house?” prompting him to reply, "Toby lives there." Maybe, I do that every single time I pass his house? What's wrong with that?

Mark doesn’t know that I am infatuated with his dog. Sure, I’ll stop him on the street every time I see him. I’ll admit, to get Toby’s attention, I often make high pitched squeals that only a dog can hear. All right, I spy on him out of my 4th floor window and run down the stairs to the street, where I’ll coolly walk by him as if I’m going about my business and just happened upon his company. But Mark doesn’t know all of that.

Of course, I’ve told Mark and Anna, on numerous occasions, that I love wire fox terriers and have loved them ever since I saw the famous movie dog, Asta, in the 30’s screwball comedy, The Thin Man. But they are both aging and do not remember my stories, thus. I’m casual during my encounters; When Mark points to his apartment and tells me to stop by anytime for the name of Toby’s breeder, I crane my neck and ask, “Now, where do you live again?” as if I haven’t figured out this information on my own and pass by his window daily to spy on his pup. To be safe, I'm sure to lament that I’m not allowed to have pets in my apartment. Nor do I have the time to care for a puppy, I'll say sadly, hoping he'll offer to let me come by and play with Toby.

But, Toby knows that I love him. Although he doesn’t think I know he knows. I can see a twinkle in his eye every time I see him. When I walk past him, he nonchalantly sniffs my leg. His tail perks up and his head cocks to the left when I’m within his eyeshot and, on occasion, he’s even looked up to my fourth floor apartment window.

I mean, really, does it count as stalking if the Stalked is also in love with the Stalker??! No offense to sweet Mark and Anna, but Toby and I are meant for one another and we both know it. He just doesn’t know how to say it yet. But he will. Oh, he will.