Valentine's Day. Every year people make a big deal out of it, but every year nothing changes. Just a passing day, nothing more. Everyone else is out there enjoying themselves and spending time with the people they love, and here I am at home alone. On the couch. Watching TV. Eating the chocolates my grandmother insists on sending to me. My annual valentine. Lucky me.
I look down at my dog, Cooper, curled up at my feet.
"Do you know I'm not even a big fan of chocolate?"
Cooper's ears perk up as he lifts his head to look at me.
"You're right. At least I can eat chocolate." I'm quiet for a minute before getting up suddenly, prompting Cooper to do the same. "Alright, bud. That's enough feeling sorry for ourselves. Why don't we take a walk, huh?"
Cooper is brilliant, and I have little doubt that he understands the things I say to him. Right on cue, he trots over to the front door, tail wagging. I grab his coat - and let me tell you, that thing is nicer than my own - and put it on him. Then I pull his leash from the large bin I keep by the door and clip it to his collar. After bundling myself up, I nod to him - which prompts him to wag his tail ever faster - and grab his leash, and together we head out the door.
This past week has been unusually warm for February. Like spring, almost. The air even had that earthy, new life sort of smell. I'd assumed the weather was going to be like that today, the station had even said as much, but it seems nature has other ideas. I shiver as I step into the frigid air, though Cooper seems unaffected.
"Cold day, huh?"
Cooper doesn't respond. Obviously. He's a dog.
As we take our first steps off the patio, a gust of icy wind blasts at my face, my eyes watering profusely. Cooper looks up at me.
"We're still going for a walk. We're not gonna let this get to us."
We only get halfway down the street before the snow starts to fall. Small white flakes, fine as dust. I frown.
"Perfect timing," I grunt. I look up at the clouds and mumble, "You couldn't wait maybe just fifteen minutes?" I catch a neighbor staring at me, and it occurs to me that my talking to myself might make me appear a little unhinged. But whatever. It hasn't been the best day, so I'm entitled to a short trip on the crazy train.
Only a few more minutes pass before I notice that the snow has become significantly less gentle. We press on regardless until the white dust has officially changed to pebble sized chunks of ice.
"Wow. Really?"
Cooper isn't too happy about this turn of events either, as evidenced by his panicked expression and refusal to walk any further. I nod and turn around. "Alright. The walk is postponed." We break into a run down the street. Just then a flock of geese soars above us, in a near perfect V formation, squawking furiously. I glance up just in time to be gifted by goose sludge, right in the eye.
"Oh God, why?!"
The other geese follow suit, attempting to shower me and Cooper.
"Go go go," I shout as we cut across the front yard and make a mad dash for the house. Cooper and I throw ourselves inside and I slam the door. Cooper breaks into zoomies, running in furious tight circles. I go to wash out my eye, then peek out the front window to see how much worse things have gotten out there.
"No," I say in disbelief, my jaw dropping. I'm ready to throw a tantrum. The snow and hail have stopped. The wind is hardly blowing. The geese are long gone now. And the sun is breaking through the clouds.
Suddenly, there's a crash.
"Shit! Cooper's leash!"
But it's too late. I spin around to the sight of the small table in the living room collapsed to the ground, the lamp shattered in pieces, and one of the table's legs wrapped up Cooper's leash, having been snapped off. Cooper himself stands nearby frozen like a deer in the headlights. He catches my gaze, then bolts into the other room, dragging the table leg around with him.
I stare at the wreck, suddenly feeling ill. I sit down on the floor, lean back against the door, and close my eyes.
