My-wife-knot-my-dog Now

(to Arlo) One week. Don’t kill her.

She had a panic attack. I was the only one here.

Here’s the deal, sweater. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. Bruce is the only honest creature in this room. Stay on your side of the couch. We survive. Then you go back to her.

Arlo freezes. THE HAIRBALL is not a pet. It is a weapon of mass shedding. A miniature poodle named who wears sweaters, has separation anxiety, and once peed on Arlo’s pillow the night he moved out. my-wife-knot-my-dog

They stand there. Two people. Two dogs. One knot, slowly loosening.

She’s not my—

She leaves. Arlo closes the door. He and Cordelia stare at each other. (to Arlo) One week

You miss the way she knots your tie before court.

She said “tie.” We used to be good at knots. Camping. Rope. Us. What happened, Bruce?

A jaded divorce attorney, whose only healthy relationship is with his dog, is forced to pet-sit his estranged wife’s neurotic poodle, only to discover that untangling a “Knot” is harder in marriage than in rope. I was the only one here

JUNE (40s, tired but beautiful, wearing scrubs) stands there holding a pink dog carrier that is with low growls.

(breaking) Because I can’t lose my mom and that dog in the same week. I’m asking you, as the man who used to know how to tie my apron strings.