“I owe you a few walks, don’t I, girl?”
Dobby tilted her head to the side in a way which any other person might’ve taken as a show of impatience. Georgia knew better. In her mind German shepherds were an especially smart breed and her dog was no exception. She was probably just wondering what was causing her owner to act so strangely.
“I’ll make it up to you soon,” the young woman promised, and turned her attention to the front door, rubbing her pet’s ears in what she hoped to be a reassuring gesture. Somehow she doubted the legitimacy of her own words.
Georgia knew the exact number of weeks which had passed since the last time she left her flat and she wouldn’t let herself forget. Each time she’d walk up to the calendar to cross off another day, she knew she was making a conscious decision, one her dog had to suffer for.
Yet the woman couldn’t help it. It’d been way too long since she felt comfortable with leaving her home. Having to feed Dobby every morning gave her a sense of routine, which was really the only thing that kept her from spending her whole day in bed.
Even so, Georgia had stopped taking the German shepherd on walks. Her brother visited the flat a few times every week to do it for her. He was busy, but she was desperate.
The woman gave her dog one last pat and made her way into the kitchen. She’d grabbed a red marker earlier and was now nervously fiddling with it. Dobby followed her inside a minute later.
“God, it’s already the tenth.” She murmured as she stared at the calendar. A feeling of resigned dread settled in her stomach. Like she knew what she was going to do but couldn’t find it in herself to stop, only postpone it.
Georgia glanced at Dobby, who was wearing the same confused expression she’d had in the hallway. “We’ll try again tomorrow, yeah?”
Then she uncapped the red marker and crossed off the tenth.