New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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"How do I...?" Andi rotates her arms. "Where should I...?"
"Around her stomach. Place your thumbs on her belly." I look through the square of my viewfinder. "Or anywhere, really. She won't care."
Rosie stands a foot in front of Andi, wagging. Andi kneels a foot in front of Rosie, grimacing.
Andi inches forward as if one wrong move will ignite a bomb. "I haven't picked up a dog in a while. Bart's always been too big." She retreats her arms, forgoing the mission. "We don't need a picture."
I lower my camera and shoot Andi a look.
She receives it and must remember why we're doing this because she sighs, looks back at Rosie, and reaches again.
After rotating through two outfits, Bart has thrown in the towel. He and Andi were modest cowboys in front of the horse set and returned to their normal clothes (or, in Bart's case, no clothes) for the plain backdrops. After that, we retired Bart to the doggy waiting areas and switched him for Rosie. Minimal barking occurred during the switch, much to Andi's and my relief.
With Rosie in the spotlight, we dressed her in a pig outfit to match my cow. Andi snapped our photos. (And displayed many smug, satisfied looks.) Immediately after, I took the atrocity off my body and changed back into my tee.
Now, we sit in the product of my idea. I suggested we take a photo of Rosie and Andi, convincing the latter that it would help their relationship and, in turn, barking. Now, both costume-less (Rosie bare and Andi in her leggings and tank top), the two pose for a photo.
Or try to pose, at least.
I raise my camera and place my finger on the shutter button as Andi sucks it up and lurches for Rosie. She wraps her arms around Rosie's stomach and lifts. This she does slowly, ever so slightly, as if Rosie's made of porcelain. Rosie's back legs scrape across the white sheet, but Andi raises her higher, hooking her legs up and into the air. Once airborne, Rosie's body and stubby limbs elongate, stretching downward. Rosie displays a small, relaxed smile the whole time. She never cares about people touching or holding her. (When she doesn't have other things she wants to be doing, that is). Almost always, she goes along for the ride.
Andi, however, all but shakes. She stretches her arms without a bend in sight, holding Rosie as far as possible. "Alright," Andi says through a clenched smile. "Take the pictures."
I laugh, shake my head, and decide not to push my luck. I snap some photos as they look at each other. Or, more so, Rosie looks at Andi. What Andi does could better be described as wincing. I keep the sound on. Rosie doesn't mind the clicks. In fact, two seconds in, she smiles wider.
Andi relaxes her arms. The relaxation is faint, but a bend forms. Some slack. Her fake smile lowers, not into a frown but a subtler smile, a real one. Andi swings Rosie a centimeter closer and stares into her little eyes. "You're being very sweet right now. It's unnatural."
