FicWad

T h e t o p d o g a t t h e T r o h m a n r e s i d e n c e




Joseph Trohman came home from a day that had been spent on recording songs for the new album of his band.

He was tired. It was the kind of tiredness that only affected the body, not the mind. His limbs feeling like lead, automatically dragging him over to the couch where he let himself plop down. Face down, he streched out on the oversized sofa, buried his curly head into the pillows and sighed loudly.

Two minutes later he felt a tongue slobbering all over the palm of his hand that hung down on the side of the couch. He lifted his head and made out the figure of his beagle dog. Breathing dog breath into his face. Joe had always been more of a cat person but he was never a guy to turn down a favor that one of his friends asked him.

In the words of his band mate Pete that translated to: "You are an idiot, man." However, Joe preferred to be called 'nice' instead of an idiot. He was a nice guy.

"What's up, Dax?" he stroked his animal roomie.

In response the beagle wagged his tail and grumbled, apparently approving of his owner's caresses.

"Are you hungry? I could use something to bite...," he slowly picked himself up from the lying position and sat up. The next thing he knew Dax had hopped onto his lap and started to chew on the jacket that the man hadn't bothered to take off.

"Okay, you are hungry," Joe laughed out and got up slowly so that his pet could jump onto the floor without losing his balance.

Leaving the living room, he addressed the beagle who was playfully jumping along at his side, "So what have you done all day?"

His question was answered as soon as he set foot onto the tiles of the kitchen. The newspaper he had carelessly tossed onto one of the chairs lay scattered on the floor, torn to shreds. The sight was artistically spiced up by pieces of cloth. Presumably what had formerly been Joe's favorite sweater.

Joe looked at Dax. Dax looked at Joe. Joe opened his mouth. Dax tilted his head and wagged his tail. Joe closed his mouth again and shook his head. Animal cuteness: 1, human authority: 0.

"My fault. Poor thing was locked up in my apartment all day. He needed some kind of occupation," he thought to himself as he opened the door of one of the cupboards and took out a can of dog food. When he closed it again his eyes fell onto what Dax had also accomplished.

It smelled worse than his breath.

"Dude!" Joe yelled out and held his nose, only now becoming aware of the nasty stink. "I never thought I'd say that to somebody, but you have worse manners than Pete."

After he had gotten rid of the proof that his dog's digestion worked just fine Joe fed his pet and cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. "You need to get out more often, huh?" he eyed his little companion who was greedily devouring his dinner. Then he prepared himself a sandwich with the humble contents of his fridge. He took a mental note to go shopping.

With his dinner he retreated to his initial place on the sofa in the living room and turned on the TV. A few moments later he was joined by Dax who sat down at his feet and stared up to him, blinking a few times and then scratching behind one of his giant ears with his hindpaw. Quickly Joe popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth for fear that the dog would make him give it to him through the magic power of his begging stare.

"Ha," Joe spat out, basking in his small victory. Well not really, the deli meat on his sandwich had been past its expiration date. But let's give the man a break.

Half an hour later, Joe was half-asleep, Dax called attention to himself by barking loudly. Alarmed, the man winced and looked around confusedly. He still had to get used to his new companion. Finally spying the beagle sitting in front of the door and looking alternately at the handle and over to him, Joe concluded that he had to take the dog for a walk.

"Alright, buddy. We're going out. The life's been drained out of my body but I am taking you out. Because I am a nice guy." Not an idiot.

A few minutes later they were in the park, darkness giving the trees an erie look. Joe glanced at his pet. Not necessarily the figure of a strong fighter. His best weapon was his faithful gaze. Somehow he reminded Joe of his friend Patrick. If Patrick were a dog he would most definitely be a beagle. Andy, the drummer of his band, would probably be a cocker spaniel. Pete a doberman pinscher.

Joe would be a poodle. The original fro dog. Fro-ster dog. Fraw dawg. Impressing the bitches with his fluffly hair. Not like in real life.

Shaking off his odd cross-species thoughts he turned around to find Dax had disappeared into the night. I don't know about all the characteristics of a nice guy but to me, letting an untrained fairly young and energetic dog off the leash sounds like something an idiot would do.

When Joe had finally arrived at the same conclusion he had searched through half of the park in vain. Yelling Dax's name (Dax) loudly he ran around frantically. Quite a sight for a narrator who is easily amused.

"Dax! Come 'ere! Dax! Be a good boy... dog... come 'ere!" Then he added, "You can shred another sweater at home if you come here right now!" He had never really liked the ugly thing his mother had gotten him last Christmas.

Suddenly somebody tapped him on the shoulder and he winced for the second time that day. Obviously Joe was about as much of a fierce fighter as his beagle. He turned around and was faced with a woman about his age, smiling. In her arms she was holding Dax who was panting, completely out of breath from his spree in the park. Another dog sat next to her. He was a lot taller than Dax and apparently a lot more well-trained.

"Would you, by any chance, be looking for this little rascal?" The perplexed expression on Joe's face caused her to smirk.

"How did you..." he stuttered slowly.

"When I found him he was lying in the grass, panting like mad." She pushed the exhausted dog into the man's open arms. "Little dude doesn't know how to ration his energy yet."

"Thank you so much," Joe said. He hadn't failed to notice her pretty smile. Or the fact that he hadn't had a date for over half a year. "Can I... Can I thank you by means of a cup of coffee?"

She petted her own dog's head and shook her head, "No, but thank you very much. I really should be getting home." Then she picked up on the disappointed look on his face, "But, hey, do you come here often with... Dax, right? Because Wesley and I are regulars here."

"Well... I guess so. I've only had him for a week and this seems like the best place near-by to walk him." Joe put Dax, who had started to wiggle around in his arms, onto the ground. Don't forget the leash, nice guy.

"Cool... So I'll be seeing you soon," she waved at him and turned around. "Oh, I am Brenda, by the way."

"Joe," the man said back.