Free advice

"Well," the dog said, "it's a big tree, yes, but if you apply yourself for a few hours a week you should be able to chop into small enough pieces to supply yourself with firewood for some time. Of course, being a Complete and Total Loser, you'll probably be too lazy to do that and you'll pay some tree guys two grand to get rid of it. They'll chop into firewood and sell it and you won't get any of that money, you loser."

The dog in the house

The Complete and Total Loser has the dog again. She's spent over a month with him since the beginning of the year and has developed a routine. There are specific places she goes to in the back yard, often in a set order. 

An apple sits in the crock of a tree while a Welsh Corgi explores a lawn.

When first out she heads for a corner of the house that has something living behind the siding. Mice, the Loser guesses. She sits and sniffs for awhile and sometimes follows a scent train through the pachysandra. When she gives up, she goes elsewhere. The Loser keeps an eye on her to keep her from rolling in deer scat. (He's already given her an extra bath for this.) Being a Corgi, she's short and often gets lost behind things. The Loser's greatest fear is of her running off and getting lost. He watches her closely. 

Party time

The Complete and Total Loser went to his brother's house last week to have dinner with his family. Here, his sister-in-law is taking a picture of her daughter, who's sitting in between two friends, while his brother and nephew stare at their telephones. 
The Loser never had a wife or children and he wonders what it would be like to be a part of a scene like this. He is, however, taking care of the dog at the bottom of the photograph for a week.

Dog tail

A Pembroke Welsh Corgi poses for a portrait.

Once, when the Complete and Total Loser was in bed with the dog he was taking care of, his stomach grumbled so loudly that the dog thought another animal had entered the room. Her head went up and she looked all around.

Last day with the dog

It's been OK, life with a dog. It makes the Complete and Total Loser get out of bed a little earlier, and he's been walking two miles a day. He won't miss picking up the poop, though, and even though he's only vacuumed a few times, and small areas, the filter was clogged with dog hair, despite his frequent brushing.
And this is a small dog, weighing less than twenty-five pounds. 
The Loser will miss having a being to talk to. He's enjoyed hearing her breath in bed next to him. 

Corgi sleep

The dog the Complete and Total Loser is taking care of, a Corgi, actually thinks it's normal to lie down like this. Crazy. 

The Loser has decided that Corgis are the Peter Dinklages of the canine world. 

A dog

For three weeks this February, the Complete and Total Loser will take care of his sister-in-law's dog, a corgi, while she and her daughter visit New Zealand to celebrate her recent graduation from college. 
The Loser has never had a pet, though he's taken care of a few. Sixteen years ago, he took care of an acquaintance's cat while he was housesitting for his traveling parents in the suburbs.
The cat had a fully developed personality. When you said its name, it answered you. It talked like a person would, except in its own language, of course. It was like the elderly Chinese people the Loser met in remote villages when living in China in the mid '80s, people who would chatter away to the Loser because they had no concept of people not speaking their language. 

This isn't the dog the Loser will take care of but it looks just like her.

One August evening, the Loser let the cat, which lived in the city, outdoors to explore and hunt. It wasn't the first time, but it would be the last. There were weeks of posting signs, calling shelters, making grim drives on local roads looking for a small body. It never showed up, and the Loser was certain it had been killed, though he doesn't usually give feelings and hunches real weight.
He lied to owner, telling her it had escaped and that he was profusely sorry. She accepted this, though she was sad. 
The cat was ten years old at the time, meaning it would have been dead for at least half a decade by now, but when the Loser thinks about it he feels as sharp a pang of sorrow and guilt as he did at the time. 
Since then, he has made it his policy not to have pets or people in his life.
The dog might be fun for a few weeks, but there's no way in hell it's setting an unleashed foot outside. No goddam way. Not even once.