Paul and Robert

I met Paul and Robert when I tripped and fell right on top of Robert, who didn’t seem to mind too much, and even seemed to be used to it. He just gave me a bored look and let out a sigh, or maybe a wheeze, I don’t know. In any case, he wasn’t hurt. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly humiliated. My weekly jog through the Bois de Vincennes was ruined, but to my great surprise, Paul was concerned and insisted on taking me back into town.

After this rocky start, Paul, Robert, and I were inseparable. It was an uncomplicated friendship, and we would always go over to each other’s houses to cook together or watch a movie, perfectly comfortable being together in silence.

Paul was a gentleman: always smiling, polite, cultivated. He was thoughtful, and every word that came out of his mouth was carefully considered.

Robert, on the other hand, was a bit of an introvert. And wherever Paul went, Robert followed. Sometimes he would stare at me and make a little noise that made me uncomfortable. Sometimes he would actually listen to me, but he would always let out a sigh. Weird.

Then, one rather embarrassing morning after a night of drinking, I managed to open one eye to find myself and Paul lying in bed together (fully dressed—thank goodness!). Wait a minute! Paul, Robert, and me lying in bed together. I don’t know how I could have missed Robert’s snoring, stretched out on his back, mouth wide open, right on my shoulder, his foul breath wafting into my nostrils and letting me know, to my great chagrin, that the alcohol had not dulled my sense of smell. But I have to admit I was flattered that the little furball, apparently accustomed to sharing his master’s bed, was finally warming up to me.

Translated from french by Kenneth Barger  🙂

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