Jita: Career Attempt # 1
Career: Owner/proprietor of The Singles Club
Career length: 23 hours
“Sunny!” I banged on my cousin’s door. “I’ve got my first clients!”
Sunny opened his door and leaned against the door frame, running his hands through his hair and yawning.
“Have you been pulling another all-nighter?” I asked him.
“I’ve got exams all next week,” he said. “What clients are you talking about?”
“For my Singles Club, remember?”
He scratched his chin and looked at me, eyebrows raised. “The one for pets?”
“Yes! Melanie and Jim are meeting us at Hale Park.”
“And how exactly is this date supposed to go down? You don’t know anything about animals – you’ve never even had a pet.”
There was a short silence. “Well I did have Poppet.”
“Oh yes, sorry,” said Sunny, looking away.
Poppet was a taboo topic. When I was eleven, I’d secretly left his goldfish bowl on the radiator “to keep him warm” when we went on vacation. It didn’t end well for Poppet.
“We’re going to take them for a walk. And,” I added cunningly, “you have missed the point of my master plan. Throw two attractive single humans into the mix on the pretext of walking their love-dogs and voila! Accidental Romance!”
“Smart thinking,” said Sunny, turning away to brush his hair. “But what about the pet romance? Have you thought that through?”
“What’s there to plan? A boy dog, a girl dog – they meet and fall in love.”
Sunny’s shoulders were shaking although his back stayed facing me.
“Jita, we’re talking about dogs. Has Auntie spoken to you about the birds and the bee –“
“Please Sunny,” I interrupted sternly. “Keep it clean. Everyone loves romance.”
“This I’ve got to see,” muttered Sunny, grabbing his keys and following me down the stairs.
At the park…
“I expect this to result in a wonderful love match,” I confided to Melanie.
“Oh I hope so,” breathed Melanie, who was a trust fund baby and would likely never work a day in her life.
Jim eyed the lovely Melanie and I smiled rather smugly at Sunny.
“Why don't you give us your pets - you can go off for a coffee and relax,” I said to Jim, who passed Boxer’s leash over to Sunny.
Melanie walked back to her car and brought out Muffy-Puff, her Pomeranian. She handed me the little ball of yappy fluff after air kissing it and headed off with Jim.
“Alright, let’s walk these two,” I said, placing Muffy-Puff on the grass.
“What the -?”
At the sight of Muffy-Puff, Boxer sprang off his leash like a rocket, and bolted straight towards her manicured bottom. A crazily yipping Muffy-Puff zipped away at top speed with me still attached to her leash. Round and around we raced in enormous circles.
“Sunny!” I yelled. "Help!"
Sunny was doubled over laughing, the fathead. And around and around we continued until I crashed off onto the side. I picked myself up and hoofed it towards the sidelines and shoved my hand into the doggie treats bag, pulling out a great big handful.
“OY! KIBBLES AND BITS!” I shouted at the dogs. They were not interested in kibbles and bits. I was about to plunge back into the chaos when Boxer veered off towards a squirrel, ran up a tree and fell over backwards trying to inspect his nether regions.
“Muffy-Puff spent the rest of the day trembling and squeaking like a squeeze toy,” I said sadly much later to Sunny over tea and cookies. “She’s been turned off romance for good! This isn't working out. Ooof! Men!”