It was hard to get out of bed, most days. Maisky was always a good motivator. Like clockwork, every single morning, padding over to her with the leash between his teeth. Bailey groaned and rolled out from under the covers. Who could resist that face? “Alright boy, gimme a sec.”
The streets were quieter this time of year. Bailey was grateful. She was pretty sure her pants were on backwards. She struggled to scrub the sleep from her eyes, letting Maisky lead the way. They always took the same path. There was a dog park in the area, and her boy knew where he was going. By scent or memory or routine, Bailey wasn’t sure. He had his favourites: bananas, peanut butter, his rubber ducky squeaky toy. Iris. Bailey could make out her figure in the distance. The girl was already at the park, surrounded by the dogs she babysat for work. She worked with Bailey’s Mom, too, for nursing placement in the ER. And she studied. Bailey was exhausted just thinkin’ about it. Felt guilty, thinking how much extra effort it took for her to get out of bed, when people like Iris existed and achieved and functioned. Bailey was always second best. Inferior. Even with her own dog.
She loosened her hold on Maisky’s leash when he started to tug, ready to barrel toward Iris. Bailey let it happen. Slowly walked over to see Maisky slobbering all over Iris’ face. “Hey, girl.” Bailey greeted with a small wave. She was past the point of apologising for Maisky’s affectionate behaviour. This, like everything else, was routine. “What’s goin’ on? How are you?”
