A Taste For Death

Gazing out of the huge gym window, I see that the sun is setting. It’s been a beautiful day – clear blue sky, sunshine. Unfortunately I’ve spent most of it vomiting, resting, watching television and crying.
“You’re going to lose your job,” the panther says. He’s draped across the exercise bike next to mine.
“I’m not,” I say.
“It’s Monday,” the panther says, curling his tail around his hind legs. “You’re meant to be at the office.”
“It’s not my fault,” I say. “I was up half the night being sick. There’s no way I could have gone to the office and…”
“We should be at home then,” the panther says, stretching his front legs out, pushing his bottom into the air.
“It’s bad for me just sitting in the flat on my own for…”
“You’re not on your own. I’m with you,” the panther says, looking both sad and offended.
“Exactly,” I say, leaving it there. It’s bad for me to be in the flat with just the panther for company.
Already, I’m starting to feel better. The walk to the gym in the sunshine, the company of other gym goers, even the horrible music here is improving my mood.

The Dog Trainer has been messaging: sending photos and videos of the dogs he works with. Fingers crossed I recover from my ghastly vomiting bug and meet him soon. He’s gorgeous.

Happy Monday everyone!

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