Each time I returned home after such work trip, there was something different about my dog. New collar, new perfume, newstyle. Now my husband told me that he was bonding. Something did not smell right.

It was Sunday again, morning. I was driving back home after a late night shift at the cafe, with burning eyes and in my head the single thought.

Tea. Silence. Couch.
The moment I unlocked the door Bella leaped upon me like a fur-covered rocket. She was my little darling white-and-caramel cocker spaniel.

That time though, she appeared airbrushed. And any grooming appointments I could definitely not have made.

What are you?!”

I went on my knees and touched her ears. Perfectly trimmed. Not more than a little pink bow in her tail. And her fur,–it is so furred!
Is it perfume?

Jason is my husband who walked into the kitchen, in lounge shorts with a toaster.

Hey you are back already?

“Hi. Bella to the groomer?!”
“Not really. I just left her off because I was right there. What? I’m bonding. She is in love with me now.”

He winked. I blinked. That, by the same person, who scolded last week, saying, Oh, she stinks and will not cease licking my slippers. I picked up Bella and sniffed again. Nope Not my imagination.