They had finally moved out of her tiny, tiny apartment–that he constantly complained about, saying things like "How am I supposed to stretch out in a place like this? Not all of us are as short as you."
She'd usually tell him things like, "Then find another journalist to shack up with. Apparently one of the Amazonian variety."
And into a small one story house from the fifties that they had finally started to settle into a bit–she'd found a place for all her books, he had his own office, it was starting to feel like theirs.
And Duke would not stop talking about a dog.
"C'mon, Mason, this backyard is perfect for a dog."
"What backyard? You mean the three feet of grass between our back door and the neighbor's fence?"
And it would just continue from there. It wasn't that Jennifer didn't want a dog, quite the contrary, she just didn't feel that this place was the best place to have one. It was big enough for two–not very, but enough–but she was certain that the kind of dog that Duke wanted would make their "big enough" space suddenly much too cramped.
Unfortunately, Duke was much too stubborn to understand the reality of their situation. He'd even resorted to begging.
"C'mon, Mason, just think about it," he'd said, kissing her neck, "you, me, a puppy? You could name 'em after one of those authors you like, we can train 'em to watch the place while we're at work–"
"I'm not living with an attack dog, Chief." She'd interrupted.
Duke'd sighed looking up at her, "Do you always have to see the worst in a situation?"
"Do you always have to turn everything in our lives into a weapon?"
That'd kept him quiet on the subject for a while. But then the image got stuck in her mind–just them and a dog. Something that'd be there to greet them excitedly before the other got home. It wasn't a bad image, and it was starting to be enough of a good image that she was starting to think about conceding.
Until she decided to act. She'd tracked down a breeder that seemed reputable, and had been talking to them for a couple of days before they agreed on a day for her to finally take the dog home. She picked up the puppy, a German Shepard, a few hours before Duke's shift was supposed to end, so she knew she had well into the evening before he got home. The puppy was ecstatic about her new home, and checked every corner of the house out, sniffling and snuffling at everything she could get her nose near. She kept looking back at Jennifer as if to ask, "Is this okay? Am I okay?"
Jennifer was endeared immediately.
When Duke came home that night, the puppy all but charged him, bouncing on him and licking his face and the smile that he had on his face as she did…well, it only made Jennifer wish she'd done it sooner.
Duke grinned at her, "I knew you'd break eventually."
Jennifer rolled her eyes at him, "You can either gloat, or you can enjoy and admit how wonderful I am."
Duke stood and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her. She smiled against his lips and kissed him back. When he pulled away he smiled at her, "So. What'd you name her?"
"Hera. Zeus's wife and ass-kicker extraordinaire. We never talked breed, but I figured a German Shepard would be exactly what you were looking for and–"
He kissed her again, "I have exactly what I want."
She laughed at him.