It had been in the air all night. The Mooks were watching TV without watching TV. I know what this means. They had something serious to talk about. And then Mook A said, "We have something serious to talk about." (I told you!)Then it got a little weird because Mook A kept glancing at me and I knew what he wanted but I also knew that I wasn't going to do it: leave the room. I was cuddled with Mook B and finally he just glared at me. B asked, "Is it something about the dog?" "NO!" A said a little too loudly and I realized that if I did not go away that he would find some nasty punishment for me later—something very subtle but very evil.
So I sighed, stretched and got off the couch like everything was perfectly normal and I toddled off to the kitchen to my little mat. Neither of the Mooks could see me but I could hear a little bit of what they would say.
It was one of those "relationship" conversations like normal people have (or, I should say, that straight women initiate and straight men listen to). I didn't know queers did that—I thought they talked about shoes or Madonna and then fucked some more. But the Mooks are not your normal queers, I've learned. For one thing, this Friday is their 17th anniversary and apparently, for queers, that's a lot. (To put it in perspective: it's longer than the life of your average dog!). It seems the Mooks have gotten this far because they have a lot of these talks. I know this because when A said, "We have something serious to talk about," B sighed deeply. (Like normal men sigh when their female partners say the same thing which answers the question of who is the man and who is the women in this couple.)
What I heard of the talk involved A's ongoing health problems, B's stress, money and—needless to say—sex. I blanked out the rest because, thanks much, I don't want to hear about what they do or do not do in bed. After a bit of silence I toddled back into the living room and jumped up on the couch with B because he looked the most miserable though A wasn't exactly glowing with joy. It was clear some heavy shit had gone down. However A said, "Look, I know this wasn't fun but aren't you happy we talked—got it out in the air and dealt with it. Obviously we've both been thinking about it for a long time."
Now I was mad with curiousity but it was clear the discussion was over but it was also clear it had something to do with a huge change in the nature of their couplehood. This is going to take some detective work. They still kissed before they went to bed and they did say the usual I love yous so there's not much different there. Since, they have been the Mooks I know and the ground hasn't shifted and, more importantly, no one is packing.
So my life, at least, goes on as before which is how it should be.
During a subsequent walk, when I was sure we were alone, I asked A, "What was that all about?" "As it has nothing to do with you you needn't concern yourself." "Well," I said, "I'm here if you want to talk." "You just want the gorey details," he said. I didn't say anything more because, no matter what happened, it was too touchy a situation to make snarky remarks about.
Meanwhile, I ran into Cleo the cat during this afternoon's walk and I was much, much cooler with her this time. I did not shriek or dance or lunge at her. She rewarded me with a little kiss and purred, "How are you, Handsome?" Well, that did get under my skin (by way of my dick) and I started to tremble and whimper. She rewarded that with a smack on my nose and walked away. A pulled me along and said, "Brilliant, Romeo."
"Well, neither of our sex lives is popping, are they?" I couldn't resist saying.
He was quiet after that.
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