Furry Fang

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Non-Fiction

Nina, Dori and the furry friends. They are all part of the same gang, loving and licking lovers of life. Despite the fact that they never got to meet each other, and that they both lived more than fifteen years apart, they share the same human, yours truly, whom they lovingly adore. 

Dori is sleeping by my side, with his left cheek caressing his inanimate companion, dusty and diminutive Dandelion. I type away at my desk, an hour before I am due to start work, during the minutes I have managed to steal away for myself, setting an intention, feeling a sense of purpose while scribbling freestyle. 

Morning coffee. The most pleasurable dark beverage tinting away the inner side of my teeth and making me spend a small yearly fortune in dental hygiene appointments. 

Dori wakes up and starts to nicely chew on his paws. There is some movement around the house. I have just lost my keys. To my own apartment. In my own apartment. He looks at me sideways and judges me with his small but powerful canines (I still have that vampire bruise, the one his fang imprinted on my arm a few weeks ago, right above the poppy tattoo). He dog-sighs. He would take a sip of my mug of coffee if he could. Yet, instead, he nonchalantly chews on his pet fodder and goes back to peaceful feline-inspired rest. 

I hold the keys to my own castle. I go back to my scribbling. I think of Nina. I wish she was sleeping by my side too. Your red ribbon rocked, Nina. My furry friend and licking lover of life.

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