Tails From BritinLand, A sequel to Trouble Brian’s POV It’s been five months, two days and six hours since Peter has come into our lives; more than enough time for me to come to the belated realization that I have made a terrible mistake. Because no matter how hard I try or how hard Justin tries to convince me, the facts remain the same. I hate our dog. Everything about him pisses me off. You want to know why I hate him. Well, let’s start with his smell. It’s a combination of wet carpet and old dirt, repulsive in every way. No matter what they do at the groomers or how many scarves and ribbons they put on him, he still smells like a dog. You can burn incense and candles for hours but that still doesn’t take away the odor of a big, hairy dog. And speaking of hair. Have I mentioned how much I hate the fucking dog hair? It attaches itself to every piece of clothing I own. All my pants and shirts and jackets are littered with his long hair. There is not a lint brush made that can keep up with Newfie shedding. There’s hair on every surface of this house and Justin would have hair in our bed too if I hadn’t put my foot down and banned the dog from ever entering our room. I have lint brushes in my car, in the garage, in the hallway right outside my office, beside the coat rack, in the kitchen and the laundry room. They are as useless as tits on a table. Oh, and let’s not forget the drool. The disgusting spit that hangs in long strings down his mouth, leaving criss-crossing trails across my Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. Like an army of slugs marching back and forth depositing silver lines everywhere. Even the cleaning crew has threatened to quit if I don’t do something about that. All the polishing in the world won’t cover the nail scratches and the kaleidoscope of lines that Peter leaves in his wake. And did I tell you how the gardeners love the piles of shit all over my lawn? I don’t mean little drops of shit like the rabbits and geese leave, I mean fucking rhinoceros sized piles of dog shit that lie in big, wet clumps all over the lawn, baking in the hot sun with flies buzzing all around until the poor guys come with the pooper-scoopers to clean up. And last, but not fucking least, let me mention that this dog doesn’t stop staring at me! Everywhere I go, I see those sad eyes watching every move I make. I can’t get within one foot of Justin and his ears perk up and his body moves forward and I swear he would tear my throat out if I so much as raised an eyebrow at Justin. The first time I gave Justin a hug and a kiss in front of the dog, he almost barked himself hoarse. This animal has not one redeeming quality that would make me want to keep him except for the fact that if I threw him out, Justin would probably go with him. That, unfortunately, is the truth. Justin’s POV I can’t understand why Brian hates Peter. He’s the most lovable pet. He looks like a big Panda bear without the white circles around his eyes and I just want to squeeze him every time I see him. He’s given me no trouble whatsoever and has been a wonderful companion ever since the first day he followed me home. Peter never has accidents in the house or the garage where his room is, and I feel so safe when he’s running alongside of me in the mornings. I never have to worry about carrying any of those stupid protection devices that Brian insists on because I know that Peter would protect me from any possible animal or intruder out there. So he drools and he sheds, who cares? Brian knew that from the beginning. It’s not like I lied and told him he was the perfect dog. I made it abundantly clear that he had a few faults, nothing too big to overcome or to turn into such a major fucking deal. The queening that is going on around here lately is ridiculous. I’m supposed to be the drama queen, not him. Brian is turning into this whinny-ass complainer, constantly bitching about Peter. The dog hair this and the dog drool that. It’s unbelievable! You would think I had brought home an entire kennel rather than just one dog. Could he get anymore anal about his hardwood floors? He’s acting like a fucking diva. So yeah, I refused to blow him the other day because Peter was in the same room. I don’t care if Brian’s used to having sex in public, it’s been years since we’ve done a back room and Peter might not understand what’s going on; he might be traumatized by watching us. “He’s a fucking dog,” Brian had said at the time. “Dogs fuck in public all the time, why should he mind watching us?” That was bullshit of course and I refused to give in. The only thing that calmed Brian down was the fact that I not only blew him after we put Peter to bed, I rimmed him, scarfed him and gave him a full body massage with the new oils that he had flown in from Paris. That was the only thing that shut him up. Oh, and having my dick in his mouth helped too. Peter’s POV I love my master. He pets me all the time and takes me for long walks and gives me treats every day. I like to sit in his studio and watch him paint. The smell in that room is nice and there is always lots of sunshine and it’s warm. I have a soft bed in the corner and sometimes I’ll take a nap while Master Justin is painting. He smells like this room, like the paint that he keeps in the cans on top of the shelf. I tried to lick the paint one day and he laughed at me when he saw that my nose and tongue had turned blue, so he moved the cans up higher and now I can’t reach them. He always keeps something good in his pocket for me and I know that all I have to do is bump him in the leg and sit nice and he’ll pull a treat out and give it to me. I’m always happy when he’s home. He lets me play in the yard and throws balls so we can play catch and I run and run with sticks in my mouth and bury them in the yard. He doesn’t yell at me when I dig holes. He just tells me to go farther out, on the edges of the lawn, near the big trees so that I don’t get in trouble. I hate it when he goes away. I always know when it’s time because the big brown truck comes and they load it up with all the white square things that Master has been playing with in his studio. When he goes anywhere in the truck it’s usually for a long time and it makes me sad because then I have to stay home and listen to the scary one. The scary one looks at me with his cat eyes. I don’t like cats and when he looks at me with those eyes, I want to bark and bark but when I do, he just stares harder and makes me want to hide. I tried hiding under the sofa the other day and that was not a good thing. I tipped it over and the table beside it moved and the big tall lamp fell and crashed into a million pieces. The scary one looked at me and said, “Die, motherfucker.” I’m sure that was a bad thing. Brian’s POV I told him the dog had to go. When he bumped that table trying to hide under the sofa like the fucking Chihuahua he’s not, I almost killed him. In fact, I probably would have if I could have figured out a lie that Justin would have believed. That lamp was a Murano, and must have cost at least two-thousand dollars. What the fuck was I thinking when I said yes? Sure it was his birthday and I was so relieved he wasn’t cheating on me I would have said yes to anything. But that was under duress. I shouldn’t be held responsible for any actions or decisions made under those circumstances. He knows I’ve never wanted a pet, least of all one that looks like a Woolly Mammoth. This is not Never-Never-Land and I don’t need a God-damn Nana dog! I don’t care how fucking cute he is! Justin’s POV Oh my God! I can’t believe the way he’s carrying on over that lamp. I’m sure that we can get another one and I told him I would be more than happy to pay for it, but oh no, that didn’t sit well at all. “That is not the point, Justin,” he said, with both eyebrows raised. “I think we need to re-examine this decision to keep the dog.” At which point I burst into tears and the argument was over. He took me in his arms and said he was sorry and yes, we could keep Peter, but first, could he just fuck me. I said yes. Brian’s POV I am doomed. I’ve sold my soul to the devil for some blond-boy ass. Where are my morals and my will-power? I have certain standards of living and they are going to the shitter because of this dog, but more importantly, I’m allowing it! Justin knew that all he had to do was turn on the tears and he had me. I’m a sucker for those blue eyes, filled with pain, looking like the world is coming to an end. And of course, the pink, perfect mouth around my dick doesn’t help any. One incredible blowjob and I’m lost. Peter’s POV I have to be good. Master Justin told me that I have to be really good and pretend I’m invisible so that the scary one won’t look at me. I don’t know how to be invisible. I have to sit in my corner of the studio, or the kitchen and chew on my big bone, and try really hard not to drool or scratch up the floor. It’s hard because I can’t help it. I tried not to drink any water so I wouldn’t have any spit but that didn’t work. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was so thirsty because there just wasn’t enough water in my bowl, so I drank all the water out of the toilet and made a big mess all over the floor. The scary one took one look at the bathroom and said, “Jesus Fucking Christ.” Master Justin told him to calm down and the scary one told him to get a grip and he was tired of cleaning up my mess but the Master started to cry again and then they were hugging and kissing and they put me on the tie-out in the garden for a long, long time. It was almost dark when I was brought back in the house but the scary one was nice and even patted me on the head. Justin’s POV I think I’m having a nervous breakdown! Brian is driving me crazy with all these demands and I just can’t deal with this anymore. Who knew this would turn into such a major deal? Well, I guess I did. I knew he hated dogs but I really thought it would be fine after the initial outrage. He has gone through all the trouble of changing our entire filtration system, spending enormous amounts of money to help my allergies so I assumed that he was behind this decision one hundred percent. It’s very clear that he’s not. He’s having buyer’s remorse, big time. I’ve got to leave next week for my annual New York showing but I’m terrified to leave Peter here alone with him for so long. They may kill each other before I get back. It’ll be like Cujo in the Stephen King novel with Brian tapped in his bedroom, unable to get out. Or Brian will lock him up in the garage and Peter will die of starvation, or loneliness or both! How could anyone not love this dog? I don’t understand why Brian is having such issues with this. Maybe Kyle can watch him while I’m gone. I can take him over to his house and Peter can stay with him till I get back. I think he takes in borders on certain occasions. On the other hand, if I do that, Brian will never get used to him. He’s going to tell me how much better life is without Peter. No, that’s not the solution here. I just need to get them to bond more. Peter’s never with Brian when he gets home at night. Of course he’s never seen the lovable side of him. The only thing he ever sees is the mess. Brian’s POV I should have known he was up to something. It’s been a long time since he’s greeted me at the door with a drink in one hand and no clothes on. Granted, the sex was mind numbing and I would have enjoyed it, regardless of his intentions, but I played along, knowing he had ulterior motives. I thought he was going to ask for a new car or a new wardrobe or a trip somewhere. I was floored when all he wanted was for me to take Peter out in the yard so I could play catch with him. Apparently he had some project that he had to finish for the New York show and having Peter around in the studio was distracting him. So I gave in and took the damn dog outside. I was surprised at how fast he ran. He’s pretty nimble for such a big dog. No matter how far I threw the ball, Peter was able to find it and bring it back to me. He even laid it at my feet instead of leaving the ball in his mouth and making me wrestle for it. Of course it was covered in his saliva but I was expecting that. Eventually the dog got tired and his big tongue was hanging out so I decided to bring him in the house and let him have a drink. He must have drunk two gallons, because he stood over his big bowl for at least five minutes, lapping it up. Meanwhile, I poured myself another drink and I decided to go down to the gym and get in the hot tub while I waited for Justin to finish up whatever he was doing in the studio. Of course, Peter came with me, following me around like I was his new best friend. What a sap, one ball throwing session and he thinks I like him. He sat on the floor with his head on his paws while I peeled off my clothes. I went over to the bar we have in the corner and pulled out the can of Chronic and rolled a joint. I turned on the music and made my way over to the tub and got in slowly, getting used to the steaming hot water. Finally I was able to get in all the way and I sat there, enjoying my drink and the weed and letting the jets of water massage me. Life was good. Peter’s POV I’m so tired but I’m hungry too. The scary one took me out to play with the ball and we had fun. He throws really far, not like Master Justin who always worries that I’ll get lost or tired. The scary one threw the ball as far as he could and that was nice. I got to run and run and it was fun to chase the ball. He didn’t even have that look in his eyes tonight. He seems different, nice almost. I like it down here in this room. It’s warm and it smells good. I wish I could have my dinner but I guess he forgot. Master Justin didn’t leave anything in my dish so I’ll have to wait till later. But I’m really hungry. I think I’ll walk around the room and see if there’s anything I can find to chew on. Maybe there’s a bone lying around that I forgot and I can gnaw on that. The scary one is very quiet, sitting in the water with his eyes closed and his head leaning back on the wall. He’s holding a glass in one hand and a smoking stick in the other. I hope he’s not sleeping or everything will fall in the water and get wet. Why is his hand falling in the water? He’s not supposed to put the glass in the water, that’s not where it goes. And his head isn’t supposed to be so close to the water like that. I need to go see what’s going on. I’m right beside the scary one and his eyes are closed. I sniff all around him and I hear noises coming from his mouth. The glass is floating in the water now and his head is starting to move down. His whole body is moving down and now the other hand is wet and the smoking stick is also floating in the water. I need to bark so he notices. I bark and bark and I wag my tail and I hop all around but the scary one is sleeping and now the water is almost covering his mouth. I need to jump in the water and wake him up. I think he’s sleeping and that’s not what he is supposed to do. I’m jumping. Wow, this water is so hot. It hurts my skin but now I can move the scary one with my head and push him so he’ll notice me. I’m pushing and pushing and finally he starts to move. He is still half asleep and he’s surprised to see me in the water with him. He said, “What the fuck,” and he sat up and shook his head. I sat on the steps beside him and shook out my body. The water flew off my fur, hitting him in the face, but he just looked at me and wasn’t mad. His cat eyes were not scary tonight. They were surprised. Brian’s POV Holy shit, I fell asleep. I’ve never done that in my fucking life! I would have drowned if this stupid mutt hadn’t woken me up. I can’t believe I did that. Fuck! Peter’s sitting here beside me on the steps looking all proud, wagging his tail in the water like a giant otter with his fur all stuck to him, wet and shiny. He must weight two-hundred pounds at least, with all that water saturating his fur. I need to sit here for a few minutes while I try and get my brain back in gear. I can’t believe I fell asleep. What are the odds of my doing that? How many times have I sat here with a drink and a joint and not done that? I know Justin has warned me countless times not to do this when I’m alone. He’s said repeatedly in his Miss Prissy voice that I’m asking for trouble by having a drink and a toke on an empty stomach after a long day. Well, he was right, but I’ll be damned if I tell him. Meanwhile, I have two-hundred pounds of wet fur that I have to deal with. I need to get him out of the water and dry him up before Justin comes down or there will be hysterics tonight. The thought of anything bad happening to me always reduces him to tears. You’d think I was the one who was bashed, not him. I’ve never been so over-protected in my life. Getting Peter out of the hot tub is easier said then done. He’s heavier than the heaviest bar-bell I’ve ever lifted. All he has to do is put one paw on the step above him and lift himself out. How hard it that? He got in easy enough, why the fuck can’t he get out? I step out of the tub and grab the towel I had left on the bench to my right. I dry off quickly and throw on a pair of sweats. Meanwhile, super-mutt is sitting in the hot tub, half in the water and half out, looking at me with the dumbest look on his face. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” He responded with more tail wagging, splashing the water all around, and making a bigger mess. “Christ.” I grab onto the fur around his neck and start hauling him out of the water. He resists for some reason and it turns into a game of push and pull. I almost fall in a few times but finally, I feel him moving and he slowly makes his way up the steps onto dry land. He shakes his fur out again, flinging water everywhere but most especially on me. “Thank you very much, Peter, but I’ve already had my bath. Now get your ass over here so I can dry you.” Again, this is easier said then done. Have you ever tried to dry a mountain of fur with a towel? It doesn’t work. What I need is an industrial size hair dryer or a Shop-vac to soak up all this water. Now that I do have, I just need to find the damn thing. “You stay right here, while I go to the garage and get it, okay?” Peter looks at me with his stupid grin and wags his tail happily. I roll my eyes and say, “Good dog.” I climb up the stairs and when I get to the top I look around to make sure Justin hasn’t come down yet. The coast is clear, so I head out to the garage to find the fucking Shop-vac. Justin’s POV It’s been at least two hours since I left Brian with Peter. Hopefully they’ve enjoyed their time together and had some fun. I haven’t heard any screaming so I suppose Peter’s behaved and not irritated Brian in any way, shape or form. This must be what it’s like to have a child. Worrying that they’ll get along with their babysitter and not be in any danger. Not that Brian would ever hurt Peter. He would never do that, but on the other hand, I don’t think he’d have any qualms about returning him to the animal shelter or putting an ad in the paper to get rid of him. I’d better go down there and start dinner. I don’t think I remembered to put any food in Peter’s dish so I need to do that too. I’m really not that hungry, more tired and anxious about this show. I wish I didn’t have to leave and be gone a week. I always worry about Brian when I’m away and now, I have Peter to worry about too. God, I’m turning into a fucking lesbian. Next thing I’ll be doing is making casseroles and putting them in the freezer. Not that Brian would eat them. He hates casseroles; they remind him of Deb and her famous Tuna ones that only appear in times of stress. I need to go and make dinner. We’ve got to eat something, even if it’s the usual non-carb, non-tasty, boring as hell, non-fat food that Brian prefers at night. At least Peter will get his usual mix of wet and dry Iams. He seems to like that, even if it does look like barf. Why are there wet footprints on the hardwood? I don’t remember hearing any rain. I’m surprised that Brian hasn’t yelled at me to clean up this mess. Did Peter fall into the pool? But these are not paw prints, they are clearly foot prints. What the fuck is going on? Whatever. I’m sure that if it’s something the dog did, I’ll hear about it. I feel like my Dad, walking through the front door and my Mom telling him, you won’t believe what Justin did today. This is exactly like that. Brian waits for Peter to fuck up and he can’t wait to tell me every lurid detail on how the dog is a piece of shit. I swear, he gets off on being the messenger of doom. Well, he’s nuts if he thinks I’m going to buy into his bullshit. The dog is staying, regardless. Peter’s POV I hear my master whistling. That means it’s dinner time. I am so hungry, but I don’t want to leave the scary one alone. He is sitting on his chair with another glass and his other hand is on my head. It feels really good and I don’t want to move from here. He’s really not so scary after all. He is nice. And tonight, he brushed my hair, and dried it and gave me a piece of cheese that he took out of the refrigerator. We shared the same piece, but he gave me the bigger portion. He grumbled a lot while he was brushing and drying me up. He kept saying, “pain-in-the-ass” over and over, but he was gentle and didn’t pull on my hair. He even took a towel and cleaned my ears where they get all itchy and he rubbed hard and made them feel good. He started to sing while he was brushing, he has a nice voice. I’ve never heard it before other than when he yelled at me. I think he likes me now and we are going to be friends. Maybe we’ll get to play catch again and then we can come back here and swim in the water together. That would be fun. I like playing in the water. Brian’s POV Okay, so I was wrong. He’s not a piece of shit; I am. I’m an anal retentive, obsessive compulsive fag that cares about nothing but his possessions. I have no heart and no redeeming qualities and I will burn in hell. That’s a given. I still can’t believe he saved my fucking life. I remember Justin telling me stories about Newfoundlands who used to save sailors when ships went down. I thought it was all bullshit at the time, but obviously not. This crazy dog loves the water and saved my sorry ass. I would tell Justin but I know he’d start crying and this would turn into a major fucking deal and he’d never go to New York for the art show. Maybe someday I will tell him, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to have a drink, watch TV, have a little dinner and get laid; and not necessarily in that order. Is that too much to ask for? Justin’s POV Holy shit! Brian has his hand on Peter’s head. I must be hallucinating or maybe I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone and I don’t know it. This is so out of character, it’s almost as bad as seeing him eat spaghetti at midnight. I wonder what happened to make him change his mind? Whatever it is, I’ll take it, ‘cause I know better than to question him and make him think he’s caving. Better to just ignore this and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary. I’m even going to be extra nice and give him a neck massage which will probably lead to other body parts needing to be rubbed and massaged but I guess he deserves it tonight. He’s actually a surprisingly good babysitter. Oh my God, he’s even smiling at the dog. I can’t ignore this; I have to find out what’s going on. Maybe he has a fever. “Are you okay?” I ask him, touching his forehead to check. I’m really worried that maybe he’s had a mini-stoke and I don’t know it. Can you stroke out from too much sex? I doubt it. Doesn’t sex elevate your heart rate and give you some mild form of cardio exercise? Brian gets his daily dose of cardio, morning and night, so this can’t be a stroke. He must be high then, and I don’t know it. “Have you had some E?” I ask him, really dumbfounded by this radical change towards Peter. “No, and will you stop looking at me like I grew a dick on my forehead? Why are you being all weird?” “I’m being weird? Brian, you’re sitting here with Peter, like he’s your BFF!” “What the fuck is that? I swear Justin, you need to start speaking proper English. Your entire vocabulary is turning into text lingo. You did go to college, even if you didn’t graduate.” “Oh stop being so high and mighty. You do it all the time. What about your daily ‘I wn 2 fk u’ messages you send me two and three times a day. Is that English?” “No, it’s ridiculously romantic,” Brian said, looking at me all happy. I swear he’s high on something. Whatever it is, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as my dear old mom would say. I’m leaving well enough alone. Hell, even Peter looks happier than shit. Wagging his tail and all. Okay, this will be the final test. If I bend down and kiss Brian and let him hug me, Peter is going to go nuts. He always does. He thinks Brian is going to choke me to death or something and this always sets him off. Which sets Brian off and all hell breaks loose. Peter’s POV Oh, oh…they’re doing it again. Rubbing their noses together and touching. Scary one is looking happy, putting his head back and reaching up for Master Justin, who’s looking at me, waiting for me to do something, but I’m not sure what. I don’t care. I’m tired and sleepy. I think I’ll just lie down for a minute and take a nap. When I wake up we can play again. I know that my masters are going to be here. They’re not going anywhere because they’re taking their clothes off so they’ll probably get in the water and swim. Maybe tomorrow they’ll let me play too. I love the water. The End…for now.