Chapter Text
You’ve always liked the month of March. Sure, it’s still dark when you get up in the morning and drizzling by the time you leave for work, but you don’t mind. You like the rain, actually. The small balcony just off the kitchen of your apartment has a cover, so sometimes you just stand out there, breathing in the clean, wet air.
Of course, rain is wet, and because you live in an apartment, you can’t just let your dog on the balcony to do his business. You need to take him on a walk.
So when you get home after work, and your dog comes trotting over, head cocked to the side, you resign yourself to a few minutes of standing out in the rain.
“Okay, Toby. Let’s go for a walk,” you say, grabbing his leash from the hook on the wall. He lets you clip it on, and then starts pulling you towards the door. Poor boy. He’s impatient.
Toby hates the elevator, but his legs are too short for the stairs, so instead you spend a good minute trying to force him into what he views as a metal death trap.
“Come on buddy, we do this at least three times a day. You can do this,” you encourage him. Finally, he gets in the elevator. He trembles a little on the way down, and you feel bad. At your old place, you were on the bottom floor, which made getting Toby outside literally a walk in the park. Now, however, your apartment is on the fifth floor. So the elevator has become a necessity.
After what must have been an agonizing thirty seconds for your poor dog, the doors open again, and he pulls you with all his 15 pounds of strength towards the door.
The rain outside is still little more than mist, and it feels refreshing on your face. Inhaling a breath of the air, you smile. Spring is officially on its way. You can’t wait for the leaves to sprout and flowers to bloom. As cliché as it might be, you’ve always loved spring.
You're shaken out of your thoughts by Toby’s incessant tugging on the leash in your hand. Oh, right. You’re supposed to be walking him.
“Sorry buddy,” you say. “Let’s go.”
There's a park not too far from your apartment complex. It’s small, but you like it just the same. And once spring hits in full force, it will look beautiful. There are cherry trees everywhere, and you know that once it’s a little warmer outside, the park will be literally covered in pink blossoms.
Under one of these trees is Toby’s favorite peeing spot. You can’t help but wonder if all the local dogs pee there, because Toby will literally never pee anywhere else. Today is no exception.
Once he’s done, he pads back over to you and you pat him on the head. “Good boy,” you say. The two of you meander through the park some more, but the raindrops seem to be getting bigger, so you eventually turn back and return to your apartment building.
“Hey Dex!” you say to the receptionist when you see he’s looking your way.
“Cate! Hi!” he responds. “How was the walk?”
You move to stand by his desk, Toby in tow. “It was alright, but I wish it wasn’t raining so much. Poor Toby here didn’t get much exercise.”
“How can he ever survive?” Dex says, bending down to pet your dog. Toby lets him, and you’re just a little surprised. Toby only lets a few select people pet him, and usually Dex is not one of those people.
Dex looks surprised as well. “You sure you didn’t tire him out? He’s downright mellow right now.”
“I think the rain bums him out,” you say. “I’ll see you later, Dex.” The two of you wave at each other and you turn around to head to the elevator...only to run into someone. “Shoot, I’m so sorry!” you apologize immediately, before you can get a good look at the person.
“nah, it’s alright,” you hear a low voice say. “shoulda looked where i was going.”
You nod and continue on your way, face burning. God, you hate doing embarrassing things! You feel like a tomato. Trying to brush off the feeling, you take Toby into the elevator and press the button for the fifth floor.
One traumatic ride later, you and Toby step back into your apartment. You unclip his leash and he thanks you by running off into your bedroom and jumping on the bed. Rolling your eyes, you go into your tiny little kitchen and make yourself a sandwich. Delicious.
Toby comes out of your room when he smells the peanut butter, and you sigh to yourself before pulling out a spoon.
“I spoil you too much,” you say as you scoop up some peanut butter and hold out the spoon to him. He licks it up gladly, and you know he will spend the next ten minutes just licking. He’s a good boy.
Your magnificent dinner now complete, you take a seat on your couch and turn on the TV. It’s the local news station, and it looks like the reporter is taking a tour of Foster Pharmaceuticals. With a reflex that only comes from years of experience, you change the channel to ABC just in time to catch Jeopardy. Much better.
If you were any less confident, you might feel weird about shouting out the answers when there is nobody but Toby in the house, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You live alone, what’s wrong with talking to yourself once in a while?
After that’s over, you drop your plate in the sink and look out the window. It’s dark now, but you can tell it’s still raining. Perfect. You run your fingers along your bookshelf, settling on The Secret Garden. You haven’t read it for a while, and you miss it. Slipping on a warm jacket, you turn on the balcony light and go outside, settling down in the chair you set out there. Confident that Toby won’t cause too much mischief (you leave him alone for several hours of the day and you still come home to a functioning apartment), you have no qualms about losing yourself in the novel.
Which, of course, you do. You’re halfway through the novel before you check the time. 10:27. Time for bed. You have to be at work at eight in the morning, and you plan on getting enough sleep so you won’t fall asleep in the agarose gel. That wouldn’t make Dr. Nelson very happy.
You work as a permanent chemistry lab tech at Friedman University, on the other side of the city. It’s your alma mater, and back when you graduated, desperately needing a job, your favorite professor, Dr. Nelson, offered you a spot as her lab assistant. Fast-forward seven years, and now, while you don’t teach at the university, you have the credentials to teach 100-level chemistry classes. Maybe you will someday.
After going through your nightly routine, you turn on the light in your bedroom only to find Toby already lying there, taking up more of the bed than you’d think an 18-inch long dog could.
“Alright Toby, I’m coming in,” you say, gently pushing him off to one side as you crawl in the other. “Goodnight, buddy.”
You wake up to a blaring noise that you think at first is your alarm. But...no. Your alarm is music, not a persistent, deafening beep that sounds dangerously like the alarm your high school used when the kitchen forgot to clear out the smoke.
And then it hits you. The fire alarm. The building’s fire alarm is going off. Without a second thought, you leap out of bed, startling Toby in the process. You’re really glad that you fell asleep in a sweatshirt, because now you just have to find a pair of pants. There are some jeans lying on the floor, probably covered in Toby hair. You shake them out and shimmy into them, a little surprised at how calm you are. When that’s done, you rush out into the main room and slip into your tennis shoes.
You’re about to head out the door when Toby comes running up to you. Oh God, you almost forgot him! Instead of trying to find the leash in the dark, you scoop him up, glad that he’s being docile. Usually he hates being picked up.
Picking up your keys from their spot next to the door, you head out. Remembering from somewhere in your brain that you’re not supposed to take an elevator when there’s a fire, you head down the hallway to the stairwell. Looks like Toby will be able to use the stairs after all.
You rush down the stairs, meeting a couple other tenants on the way down. You see young couples, people with kids, an old man with a crutch. Everyone looks confused, and some look scared.
When you reach the bottom, you head outside with everyone else. Looking up at the building from the outside, you can’t see any smoke, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.
Of course, if this was a false alarm, you’re gonna be really pissed.
Toby starts squirming in your grip once he realizes he’s outside. Your grip on him tightens as you try to make sure he doesn't escape. The thing about Toby, however, is that he is very good at doing the exact opposite of what you want him to.
“Toby, no!” you cry as he jumps out of your arms. You move to grab him but he’s put his nose to the ground. He’s on the hunt for something. You follow as closely as you can, brushing past people and trying to keep your eye on your focused dog.
Finally, he stops. You’re delighted...until you get closer and realize why.
Toby’s jaw is clamped firmly around a bone. And while you would already be grossed out by Toby chewing on some random bone, it doesn't end there. No, your eyes follow up from the bone he’s gnawing on to another bone, to another bone, all the way until you lock gazes with a very tall, walking, living skeleton.
“Hello!” he says in a loud, almost grating voice. “I am the Great Papyrus, and I believe your dog is chewing on my leg!”