Seeking Haven // s.m.

One

Wren

They say that animals possess a certain sense that humans can't.

They can understand immediately when something is wrong. They know the perfect comfort for any situation. They know when a storm is coming, they know when a person is grieving, they know when something big is about to change.

I guess I should've paid more attention to the way that my ten-year old basset hound was behaving that particular afternoon.

It was dark and gloomy out, the thick clouds rolling over the sky like tires on a vacant road. I was still awake, despite the hour, on the phone with Dace.

I hadn't even realized I'd been talking to him for so long. Time just seemed to fly by, and my laptop I was supposed to be using for my history essay was sitting open, ignored, as it had been for the past hour or so.

Dace was in the middle of telling me a story about touring a college in Delaware, where he accidentally wrote down that he speaks Chinese on the application, so a translator followed him all over campus. It was quite an interesting story, and I found myself laughing out loud constantly without meaning to.

I didn't want to be too loud, in fear of waking Haven or my parents-- who were sound asleep. With it being the holidays, Haven was in Chicago, instead of in San Fran, where most of her life was.

She was staying in her old room, which was right down the hall from mine, so I had to keep it down.

Right in the middle of Dace's Chinese story, my bedroom door opened slowly, light creaking in from the hallway outside, which had been left on.

It was Kohler, my dog.

He crossed the room, leaving the door open as he jumped up on my bed and lied down on the edge of it. I didn't mind him much at first, I just gently stroked his soft fur with my toes and continued on with my conversation with Dace, trying to pay attention to him.

But then Kohler stood up, and walked all over the bed for the longest time, distracting me. He sat on me three times before rolling all over the mattress, making weird noises.

Eventually I just kicked him off, since he was annoying me.

"What was that?" I remember Dace asking me. My dog began to scratch at my bedroom door, looking back at me and whimpering.

I frowned. "Nothing, just my dog," I'd said quietly, whispering through the phone. "It's getting late, can I call you back sometime tomorrow?"

"I'll call you," he said in response. "I didn't mean to keep you up, I'm sorry."

I hardly even paid attention to his question, my gaze not leaving Kohler. He only ever acted that way when he wants out or wants to be fed, which I made sure to do before I even "started on my homework".

As he continued to cry and claw at my door, I had to resist groaning.

"It's no problem, I liked talking to you," I admitted to Dace. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright," he replied under his breath, his voice tired. "Bye, Wren."

"Bye."

I hang up the phone, tossing it on my bed in front of me and immediately turning towards Kohler.

"You want out again?" I muttered, irritated-- even though I knew full well that he wouldn't respond.