Challenge Words: Sink, Worm, Strike
The entire counter was covered with water and I was drenched. I hadn’t thought to spread towels because it never occured to me that a dog, particularly a dog of his size, could spray that much water so far.
“Cut it out, you little creep! You’re soaking the entire kitchen.” I yelled at him. He ignored me and did it again.
“That’s what you get for washing me in the sink.” He thought at me and chuffed. “This is what dogs do. We shake to get the water out.” Yet another poor decision on my part. I had decided my big kitchen sink would be easier on my back than the tub. The little shit was laughing at me.
“That’s what towels are for,” I said aloud. As if you didn’t know that by now.” He twisted his head to grin at me.
“What’s for dinner?” He thought.
“Ground beef.” I wasn’t going to give him steak after the mess he’d made.
“I’m not eating that muck. It looks like worms.”
“Well, that’s what I’m making. If you don’t like it, you can go on a hunger strike.
“Or we could go to the park?” he wheedled.
“It’s below freezing out, Viceroy, and in case you haven’t noticed, you’re soaking wet.” I didn’t wait for him to answer but opened the sink drain and wrapped him in the towel I’d grabbed from the table behind me. “We’ll both catch our deaths out there.” He humphed at me from inside the towel as I rubbed.
“Fine. But no ground beef.”
“Not even if I make it into a burger with cheese and onions?” It was what I had planned for dinner anyway. I craved a burger every once in a while, and if I did say so myself, I made a great one. “Then we can watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, okay?” The little weirdo loved Howard Keel. He wriggled his head out of the towel and licked my hand.
“A burger and Howard Keel? Yep. That works for me.”