Shownotes
Today’s story is “The Session” by Khaki, a faithful fireside companion you may have heard of, who went by Alex Vance back then, when his muzzle wasn’t so grey.
This story was originally submitted to the Erotic Furry Writing group in 2005, where a young, bright-eyed Khaki would meet many writers and make many friends, and then go on to create the furry anthologies FANG and ROAR, the furry publishing imprint Bad Dog Books, the furry fiction archive FurRag.com and two redesigns of SoFurry, and a certain furry podcast you may have heard of.
Because that’s how we start. We’re readers, and fighters, and lovers, and writers — we’re makers, and the best things we can make are “friends”.
Today’s story is read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion, Rob Macwolf, werewolf hitchhiker, Kergiby, a full-time panther, Ta'kom Ironhoof, the equine charmer, B. P. Rugger, the ineffable Moo Moon, Killick, the dungeon master dog, Nenekiri Bookwyrm, the bespectacled dragon, Crimson Ruari, the mountain smith, Madison Scott-Clary, whose tail is behind her, Dirt, from Twitter dot com, Carrizo, your coyote in the court, Dralen, the dapper dragonfox, and Tempo, a fluffy dog in a cowboy hat.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/the-session-by-khaki-and-friends
Transcripts
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler, and oah [...] Please enjoy “The Session” by Khaki
Speaker:and
Speaker:friends.
Speaker:The squirrel bit his lip,
Speaker:large front teeth pushing down
Speaker:almost to his chin
Speaker:as he concentrated on the crystal,
Speaker:trying desperately to relax.
Speaker:Leather squeaked under him as he sat up to peer at the crystal held in front of him,
Speaker:trying, as he was told to,
Speaker:to let himself be swept away by the beauty of the refracted light,
Speaker:the rainbow patterns and angular highlights absolutely mesmerizing to his objective eye,
Speaker:but failing, utterly,
Speaker:to mesmerize him.
Speaker:“It’s not working,”
Speaker:the squirrel said with a dejected sigh,
Speaker:slumping back into the leather sofa
Speaker:and covering his face with his paws.
Speaker:He didn’t like failure at
Speaker:all and when he uncovered his eyes he tried not to look at his therapist and instead
Speaker:at the painting behind her,
Speaker:a painting on the wall
Speaker:of a maple tree casting its shadow on a green
Speaker:hill. The koala smiled at him,
Speaker:and she sat a little closer.
Speaker:Her legs were folded in that professional manner that left her knees covered by her skirt and offered a sense of relaxed casualness without giving a patient cause for undue excitement.
Speaker:She continued to hold the pendulum-crystal,
Speaker:swinging it patiently in front of the reticent squirrel
Speaker:and spinning its brilliant colours over his face.
Speaker:“This isn’t a test, you know,
Speaker:there isn’t anything you have to do
Speaker:except look and relax,” she explained
Speaker:with a soft stroke over his arm.
Speaker:The squirrel jerked his arm back and rubbed it
Speaker:as if it had been burned,
Speaker:then quickly folded his whiskers in apology.
Speaker:The koala merely chuckled,
Speaker:making the crystal jangle on its chain,
Speaker:before she held it still again.
Speaker:The squirrel lay back down on the futon,
Speaker:refocused his eyes on the swaying crystal,
Speaker:laying his hands flat on his chest
Speaker:to keep them from fidgeting with his wedding band, but that
Speaker:only served to make him fidget with his tie.
Speaker:It was always too constricting, no matter how loose he wore it
Speaker:and always too loose to look smart, no matter how far he tightened it.
Speaker:He linked his fingers to incarcerate his unquiet paws,
Speaker:twitched his whiskers and concentrated on the crystal until beads of sweat began forming on his brow.
Speaker:“My eyes are starting to hurt, Miss Muniz,”
Speaker:the squirrel said with a soft whine,
Speaker:linking his ankles as well.
Speaker:The squirrel was too short for his feet to rest on the futon’s footrest,
Speaker:though he could just touch the leather upholstery with his footpads if he stretched out enough,
Speaker:but now he felt compelled to pull his knees up
Speaker:and make himself
Speaker:even smaller. The koala smiled –
Speaker:she did that a lot
Speaker:and even though it made the squirrel nervous he nevertheless liked it when she did.
Speaker:“That’s all right.
Speaker:You can close them.
Speaker:Just remember what the crystal looked like,
Speaker:how it moved. And call me Jane, like we talked about.”
Speaker:“Sorry, Jane,” whispered the squirrel
Speaker:as he closed his eyes.
Speaker:Ah, but that felt
Speaker:good. His head was turned such that the sunlight that slipped through the office’s blinds
Speaker:warmed his tufted ears without brightening the sweet blackness of closed eyelids –
Speaker:though it wasn’t all black now.
Speaker:As Miss Muniz had said,
Speaker:he could remember what the crystal looked like.
Speaker:The squirrel studied its memory more carefully than he had when his eyes were open,
Speaker:rolling onto his side to get a better look at its
Speaker:radiant afterimage,
Speaker:enjoying the feel of the futon now the leather had warmed to his body.
Speaker:He admired its long shape,
Speaker:the crisp angles. Some facets reflected the light directly,
Speaker:others refracted it
Speaker:and he saw his own face,
Speaker:graying at the whiskers,
Speaker:dark rims around his eyes from wok and worry –
Speaker:splintered in a thousand little reflections with rainbows scattered between them
Speaker:that made him seem a decade younger.
Speaker:He smiled at that,
Speaker:something the squirrel didn’t do very often
Speaker:and if he’d had his eyes open he might quickly have stopped so as not to offend Miss Muniz,
Speaker:but in the crystal-lit darkness of his closed eyes, the squirrel let himself smile a little longer
Speaker:and took a deep breath that smelled of lightly scented candles, leather
Speaker:and patience. “Is it okay if I doze?”
Speaker:he asked in a low murmur,
Speaker:letting the image of the crystal fade as though it were blurring
Speaker:and he felt himself approaching a deeper rest than he’d experienced in
Speaker:months, if not years.
Speaker:But Miss Muniz didn’t answer him
Speaker:and immediately the alert squirrel sat upright,
Speaker:looking about in concern. “Miss Muniz?” he asked, worry in his voice. But it was all right. Miss Muniz was just a little farther away, talking to a
Speaker:mouse under the maple tree.
Speaker:The squirrel was relieved to see she was still there and
Speaker:rolled onto his back again to look up at the blue sky,
Speaker:closing his mouth as his mother had taught him
Speaker:at the sight of birds flying overhead. They
Speaker:were so high as to be no more than slow-moving pencil lines on azure paper,
Speaker:like his youngest continued to draw
Speaker:despite the squirrels efforts to teach her the proper shape of a bird.
Speaker:“I’d like you to meet someone,”
Speaker:said Miss Muniz and the squirrel,
Speaker:who no longer felt drowsy,
Speaker:sat upright on the futon.
Speaker:Soft, damp grass crunched under his footpads
Speaker:and he wiggled his toes to enjoy the crisp sensation as he nodded a greeting
Speaker:to the guest Miss Muniz wanted to introduce him to.
Speaker:He was a mouse, all white,
Speaker:and the big ears that seemed to him usually to be so comical suited this particular mouse
Speaker:perfectly. The mouse had a beach towel wrapped around his waist –
Speaker:no, one of those fancy foreign garments of which the squirrel didn’t know the name.
Speaker:The fabric was thin,
Speaker:as fragile and colourful as the rainbow sparkles of the crystal he’d so admired in the brief spell he had with it
Speaker:in the darkness of his closed eyelids,
Speaker:and the squirrel thought to himself
Speaker:that he had never seen anyone look so manly in a skirt.
Speaker:“My name is Holiday,” said the mouse as he approached with soft footsteps,
Speaker:his thin pink tail trailing behind him like smoke after a matchstick
Speaker:and he knelt in the constantly shifting shadow of the maple tree that swayed in the breeze.
Speaker:“It’s warm today. Would you like to join me in the shade?”
Speaker:the mouse offered,
Speaker:and his voice was like a beloved school lesson, clear
Speaker:and well-thought
Speaker:-out and satisfying. The squirrel looked at Miss Muniz,
Speaker:who was standing by the maple tree.
Speaker:She reached into one of the knotholes and withdrew some jewelcases for CD’s.
Speaker:What a clever place to keep your music collection,
Speaker:thought the squirrel,
Speaker:who liked people who were well-organised.
Speaker:“Go ahead,” said the koala, looking so very comfortable in her smart black business suit,
Speaker:leaning down to feed one of the CD’s into the maple tree’s bark
Speaker:and when the tree’s branches began to sway with smoothly rolling jazz music,
Speaker:the squirrel stood up and felt the futon vanish behind him.
Speaker:Even though the squirrel still felt uneasy, out here on a grassy hill, with nothing around but rolling green with copses of trees,
Speaker:herds of deer and horses,
Speaker:a little river winding through a shallow glen with eager salmon jumping the tiny waves and waterfalls,
Speaker:even so the squirrel’s hands didn’t fidget.
Speaker:He smoothed back his long whiskers and the tips of his ears for comfort and sat down on the grass with the mouse called Holiday,
Speaker:for once not worrying about grass-stains on his best khakis.
Speaker:“I’m Emile Gollardi,”
Speaker:said the squirrel and he was pleased with the sound of his voice,
Speaker:because it didn’t sound like he was apologizing for existing,
Speaker:like it usually did.
Speaker:“Can I call you Emile?” asked Holiday,
Speaker:his hands folded in his rainbow-wrapped lap.
Speaker:The branches, swept up by the lazy intonations of a saxophone that seemed to be playing a song for the fish in the stream more than the people under the tree,
Speaker:swayed to the side and the sun illuminated Holiday’s shoulders.
Speaker:The white shine of his pelt was brighter even than the crystal’s gleam had been
Speaker:and the squirrel found himself leaning forward to see it more closely,
Speaker:nodding idly to the mouse’s question. When the branches
Speaker:moved back again, letting the mouse enjoy the cool shade once again
Speaker:the squirrel had leaned forward so far forward
Speaker:that his nosepad touched the mouse’s chin,
Speaker:but even when he looked up,
Speaker:the squirrel couldn’t bring himself to apologize for that.
Speaker:This place, where the air smelled so fresh and exhilarating
Speaker:it seemed to have a
Speaker:flavour, didn’t seem like a place for apologies.
Speaker:So he simply smiled at the friendly, handsome mouse,
Speaker:who smiled back and then he turned his head and smiled at Jane
Speaker:and she smiled back as well and
Speaker:he thought he understood why Jane smiled at people so often.
Speaker:It was rather nice,
Speaker:smiling. “It’s still too warm, don’t you think, Emile?”
Speaker:asked Holiday and the squirrel noticed for the first time
Speaker:that the mouse’s eyes were purple,
Speaker:but when he wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before he looked again,
Speaker:and now they were orange,
Speaker:and then yellow and green,
Speaker:blue and back to the purple that had caught his eye before slipping on to red.
Speaker:“Yes,” the squirrel agreed,
Speaker:his nosepad touching the mouse’s
Speaker:as he marveled at the colours in his eyes.
Speaker:“Do you think it would be all right if we went for a swim in the stream?”
Speaker:The squirrel hadn’t intended to say that at all,
Speaker:but it sounded like a very good idea now that he had said it.
Speaker:He laid his hand on Holiday’s forearm without thinking,
Speaker:without even registering how soft the pelt was,
Speaker:how strong the muscle,
Speaker:and looked at Jane with hope in his eyes.
Speaker:“May we?” he asked, as hopeful as a child at a dinner he has looked forward to.
Speaker:The koala clapped her hands together and laughed,
Speaker:and so did the mouse and the squirrel,
Speaker:who now thought that laughing was perhaps even better
Speaker:than smiling. “That sounds like a wonderful idea to me,” she said,
Speaker:now wearing a sarong – that was the word!
Speaker:He did know it! – like Holiday
Speaker:and as she clapped her paws together, the squirrel took hold of the mouse’s paw and positively dragged him to his feet
Speaker:as he darted off toward the stream,
Speaker:the squirrel’s plume of a tail bouncing behind him.
Speaker:Holiday seemed to be as excited as the squirrel was –
Speaker:a thousand-faceted mirror image of himself with a splash of rainbow to lend the mouse a youth the squirrel had whittled away on duty and work,
Speaker:but not only duty and work,
Speaker:and they were hardly a waste.
Speaker:He held Holiday’s hand as he ran through tall grass
Speaker:and low, fragrant dandelion and succulent clover
Speaker:and it was like holding his wife’s hand when he said his vows
Speaker:and heard her say hers,
Speaker:or shaking hands with the senior partner of his firm and
Speaker:accepting the job of head architect among applause and flashbulbs,
Speaker:or that mind-blowing connection of a little hand squeezing his pinky
Speaker:as he gazed upon the baby held in his wife’s exhausted arms in the hospital,
Speaker:and the second baby in the hospital as well
Speaker:and the third in the house,
Speaker:with his two other children around him and his wife, shining flashlights
Speaker:against the blacked-out darkness and holding towels for daddy
Speaker:and when a thunderclap roared outside
Speaker:and a bright flash illuminated the house,
Speaker:everyone gasped at the sight of a new life.
Speaker:It was all of those feelings,
Speaker:holding Holiday’s warm, strong hand
Speaker:and the squirrel wouldn’t let go.
Speaker:The thunderclap he’d remembered then rolled through the valley for real, startling some deer and
Speaker:as the herds trotted for the safety of tree-cover they caused butterflies to fly up from the field,
Speaker:their fantastical wings beating audibly,
Speaker:though quickly overreached
Speaker:by the patter of fresh summer rain.
Speaker:The blue of the squirrel’s work shirt turned to deep violet as the rain soaked it and briefly he wondered if it would change to purple and red, like the mouse’s eyes,
Speaker:but he had arrived at the stream and the stream was now a lake of clear water,
Speaker:where rain-ripples toyed with the view of the rocks at the bottom
Speaker:or the fish swimming in it.
Speaker:Without thought or hesitation, the squirrel and the mouse leapt off the rocky overhang they’d reached while running,
Speaker:letting the rain soak them as quickly as the sun could dry them before making the sun’s work all the harder by plunging deep
Speaker:into the water, dragging a cloud of bubbles along with them that briefly danced with their soaking, sinking bodies like clouds or foam and then vanished,
Speaker:leaving only the peaceful clarity and weightlessness of warm water,
Speaker:schools of fish dancing in the distance
Speaker:and the drum of rain on the water’s surface
Speaker:as if on a glass ceiling.
Speaker:Still holding Holiday by the hand,
Speaker:the squirrel could think of no reason to go back up.
Speaker:Air wasn’t important,
Speaker:he felt perfectly comfortable –
Speaker:aside from his tie.
Speaker:As if he could read the squirrel’s mind,
Speaker:the mouse tugged himself forward by the grip that linked their paws
Speaker:and his free hand sought out the complicated knot at the squirrel’s throat,
Speaker:tugging it loose, almost scraping it away
Speaker:as if it were a thick smudge of wet paint.
Speaker:After that, the squirrel’s shirt came away like
Speaker:Christmas wrapping paper
Speaker:and as the squirrel swam out of his trousers
Speaker:he found the mouse’s skirt –
Speaker:his sarong – was now a school of multicoloured, silvery fish,
Speaker:or rather it seemed it had
Speaker:always been and now that they were immersed in water they had awoken from their slumber
Speaker:and scurried off to join their friends at the edges of the lake.
Speaker:The squirrel exhaled a bubbly gasp of wonder as he beheld the naked mouse,
Speaker:a male, no less, who still held his hand and swam circles around him.
Speaker:That dazzling white pelt reflected the hues of the sun
Speaker:and the water and the rocks and the fish as it pleased and his eyes continued to mesmerize him with the light they refracted.
Speaker:Holiday floated with the grace of a dancer and the abandon of a circus acrobat,
Speaker:displaying a feminine waist with
Speaker:masculine hips, delicate,
Speaker:expressive arms on broad shoulders,
Speaker:a handsome face with
Speaker:positively pretty eyes.
Speaker:Kissing him was like kissing his wife on their wedding night.
Speaker:The squirrel hadn’t even realized it but he’d pulled the mouse toward him
Speaker:and their lips met
Speaker:in a rush of bubbles,
Speaker:arms and legs wrapping instantly
Speaker:as each of their bodies sought to join the other.
Speaker:Holiday’s arms around him were anything but ladylike,
Speaker:they clung to him and held him and countenanced no objection –
Speaker:and the squirrel’s grip
Speaker:was no different.
Speaker:He didn’t bat an eyelash when his hand slid down the slope of the mouse’s muscular back and cupped a perfectly rounded,
Speaker:perfectly firm buttock –
Speaker:he squeezed it and held it
Speaker:and pulled that beautiful body against his as if he could absorb it.
Speaker:They kissed with eyes open,
Speaker:because no fantasy or dream could be more enticing,
Speaker:more relaxing and more satisfying than this,
Speaker:tumbling weightlessly with rain pattering far overhead,
Speaker:sunlight pouring in from above and reflecting off the sandy rocks from below.
Speaker:And then, for an instant,
Speaker:as the mouse’s eyes passed from green to violet into a momentary ordinary blue hue,
Speaker:a pang of recognition.
Speaker:The male in his arms was not some stranger called Holiday,
Speaker:the squirrel had seen him before.
Speaker:And as the kissing and grinding and groping
Speaker:grew more intimate on both sides
Speaker:the squirrel let his mind drift,
Speaker:to place the face.
Speaker:A warm sheath spilled into his paw,
Speaker:the first, other than his own,
Speaker:that he’d ever handled in a sexual fashion,
Speaker:but it seemed so natural now –
Speaker:skinning back the soft sheath to expose the hardening flesh inside,
Speaker:and the same was done to him, though
Speaker:Holiday seemed to know much better than the squirrel what he was doing.
Speaker:It felt nice, to be sharing this, and the fact that it was with another male,
Speaker:a stranger no less,
Speaker:mattered not a jot.
Speaker:Hands, lips, tongue,
Speaker:bodies rubbed together in a celebration of the male body
Speaker:which for the squirrel became a whirlwind of sensations
Speaker:applauded by the sound of the rain
Speaker:and the clash of water that jetted from the stream,
Speaker:over the short waterfall and into the lake,
Speaker:an upside-down fountain of airy foam
Speaker:that the squirrel could see just behind the mouse.
Speaker:His actions flowed smoothly from the feel of firm thigh, strong calf,
Speaker:smoothly rippled belly,
Speaker:nuzzling and licking where it felt right to do so,
Speaker:all the while wondering why this marvelous body
Speaker:was so familiar to him.
Speaker:And then the squirrel was floating high above the workfloor in his office.
Speaker:A well-lit atrium with balconies of four floors surrounding the open space between the glass dome overhead
Speaker:and the workfloor beneath, and the squirrel
Speaker:and mouse were floating below the dome
Speaker:for all to see and none to notice.
Speaker:Warm lips surrounded a part of him that up to now he’d shared only with his wife and the sensation excited the squirrel enough
Speaker:that he sought immediately to return it,
Speaker:and as the two bodies spun in this dance of deliciously shared intimacy,
Speaker:a glint of brown far below caught the squirrel’s eye,
Speaker:and a glint of white right after.
Speaker:He saw himself – a few years younger,
Speaker:slightly less gray around the whiskers
Speaker:and a good deal more stooped around the shoulders,
Speaker:scooting left to right
Speaker:to dodge people on the workfloor,
Speaker:people who worked for him
Speaker:but who had become so accustomed to the squirrel’s apologetic attitude
Speaker:that they took it for granted
Speaker:and no longer stepped aside for their boss.
Speaker:None of them, except one.
Speaker:A white mouse in a short-sleeved shirt,
Speaker:his arms piled high with rolls of blue paper that leant their colour to the white of his arms. He stepped aside, standing between two desks so that the squirrel, in mid-dart, wouldn’t trip over
Speaker:him. Not even noticing him at first
Speaker:the squirrel staggered on as usual, but something made him turn and look at the mouse,
Speaker:who smiled and the squirrel smiled as well,
Speaker:and though it only lasted an instant that glance seemed as deep a connection as the older squirrel
Speaker:and the rainbow mouse floating under the glass dome were experiencing,
Speaker:mouths engaged in an act of mutual pleasure
Speaker:that would never before have even occurred to the squirrel.
Speaker:The memory vanished,
Speaker:The hill with its maple tree,
Speaker:the fields with their herds, the glen with its river,
Speaker:the lake with its fish and the squirrel with his mouse,
Speaker:all of it vanished,
Speaker:but not the feeling.
Speaker:That marvelous feeling of a moment of stray, meaningless but powerful connection in a life swirling with obligation and love –
Speaker:a moment, perhaps, of irrational and unapologetic infatuation.
Speaker:The squirrel, lying on the futon and dreaming silly dreams,
Speaker:smiled at that. Perhaps he’d been in love with the handsome mouse for just the instant their eyes met
Speaker:and forgot about it immediately after,
Speaker:blown along in the stream of business and troubles the squirrel perpetually piled on himself.
Speaker:That the mouse was male
Speaker:didn’t matter, that the moment was fleeting and long gone
Speaker:didn’t matter, that the squirrel was married didn’t matter because for that
Speaker:one moment he was in love
Speaker:and when you’re in love there is no pain or worry
Speaker:or concern, no matter how short that infatuation might be.
Speaker:That thought might have filled him with despair.
Speaker:Despair that, perhaps,
Speaker:the squirrel didn’t love his wife as much as he thought he did
Speaker:and that he didn’t know the mouse’s real name,
Speaker:despair that he had been young enough then
Speaker:to start a fresh life with the mouse
Speaker:and that he was too old now but really,
Speaker:there was none of that,
Speaker:no despair nor uncertainty.
Speaker:He loved his wife,
Speaker:he’d never see the mouse again,
Speaker:he was going grey
Speaker:and that was how the world should be.
Speaker:Everything was as it should be.
Speaker:He was a man with a family he could care for
Speaker:and work that inspired him,
Speaker:that rewarded his diligence and his effort
Speaker:and those were no small accomplishments.
Speaker:And he may have forgotten it,
Speaker:but he remembered
Speaker:now that he was also a man with a heart,
Speaker:with passions and depths he hadn’t yet explored for himself,
Speaker:nor shared with those he loved.
Speaker:With the memory came a realization that gave him a sense of hope the squirrel hadn’t realized he’d missed,
Speaker:that there was plenty of interest to fill his remaining years.
Speaker:When the squirrel sat up
Speaker:he couldn’t remember why he was smiling.
Speaker:Soft jazz played in Miss Muniz’ office
Speaker:and the leather of the futon felt very warm indeed.
Speaker:He scratched at his whiskers and quickly hid his smile,
Speaker:as he always did,
Speaker:though he was surprised at how much effort it took him this time.
Speaker:“I’m sorry,” he said and folded his ears,
Speaker:surprised once again at how quickly they sprung back up again.
Speaker:“I don’t think I’m relaxed enough for this to work.”
Speaker:The squirrel stood
Speaker:and instead of tightening his tie, as he usually did, he merely brushed his hand over it,
Speaker:enjoying the feel of cool silk
Speaker:and appreciating that the tie
Speaker:was perfectly comfortable.
Speaker:He looked past the koala,
Speaker:who was putting the pendulum-crystal back in her drawer
Speaker:and noticed the clock.
Speaker:“Oh, I’m sorry, I seem to have gone over time,”
Speaker:the squirrel said hastily, but the koala – as usual –
Speaker:smiled. “That’s all right, Emile.
Speaker:I think it was time well spent.”
Speaker:The words were courteous and professional, and seemed to ease not just his concern
Speaker:for having overstepped this session’s hour by a full two minutes,
Speaker:but that his lateness at the business lunch that was next on his schedule
Speaker:was now also excused.
Speaker:With a nod and a smile,
Speaker:the squirrel straightened up
Speaker:and took a deep breath.
Speaker:The air in the office was stuffy,
Speaker:the scented candles
Speaker:crude and overpowering,
Speaker:but the breath was satisfying regardless.
Speaker:He glanced again at the clock –
Speaker:his wife had remarked that he always looked at clocks
Speaker:like the vain always look in mirrors –
Speaker:and then past the clock
Speaker:and at the picture of the maple tree on the hill.
Speaker:There was nothing familiar about it, other than that he’d seen it in Miss Muniz’ office
Speaker:during every one of their sessions so far,
Speaker:but he’d simply never considered it before.
Speaker:“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Speaker:said Miss Muniz, standing beside the squirrel by the door,
Speaker:regarding the picture in its frame along with him.
Speaker:“I’m afraid it’s nothing special, just a cheap knockoff print I got from a
Speaker:museum gift shop a few years back –
Speaker:you can easily tell it isn’t real paint, up close,
Speaker:that’s why I keep it in the corner.
Speaker:But I like it.” She looked at him,
Speaker:the way the squirrel gazed at the picture with a look of peace and contentment
Speaker:that seemed wholly out of place
Speaker:on the hardworking squirrel’s face.
Speaker:“Would you like me to look up where they’re sold?”
Speaker:“Oh, no need,” said the squirrel,
Speaker:shaking his head to stop gawking like a silly person.
Speaker:The words he expected himself to say were
Speaker:‘I’ve no need of a painting in my office or my house, thank you’
Speaker:but instead what he said was,
Speaker:“I’ll enjoy looking for it myself.”
Speaker:This was “The Session”
Speaker:by Khaki, read for you by the friends of the fireplace:
Speaker:Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,
Speaker:Rob MacWolf, werewolf hitchhiker,
Speaker:Kergiby, a full-time panther,
Speaker:Ta'kom Ironhoof, the equine charmer, B. P. Rugger, the ineffable Moo Moon, Killick, the dungeon
Speaker:master dog, Nenekiri Bookwyrm, the bespectacled dragon, Crimson
Speaker:Ruari, the mountain smith,
Speaker:Madison Scott-Clary,
Speaker:whose tail is behind her,
Speaker:Dirt, from Twitter dot com,
Speaker:Carrizo, your coyote in the court,
Speaker:Dralen, the dapper dragonfox,
Speaker:and Tempo, a fluffy dog
Speaker:in a cowboy hat. You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog.