Is This About Last Night?

Please don't look at me like that. I can't bear it. I know you're upset with me and I can't even say I blame you. It's just that, lately, you always seem to be angry with me. No, don't. Don't turn away from me. Look at me. Don't push me away again. Can't your stupid football game wait, just this once? This is important to me. Can't you see that? Why do my needs always have to be second to yours? What kind of a relationship is this?

Sure, grab another beer. Ignore me.

This is about last night isn't it? Maybe when the guys came over I did sit a little too close to Roger. Maybe I did get a little giddy when he put his arm around me, but what do you expect? You go off to work all day, stay out late with your buddies and stagger in at all hours of the night. And where am I? Here. Sitting here, waiting, wondering where you are. I'm stuck in this house all day with only the radio for company—you don't even let me have friends over or give me the freedom to visit them. I hardly even have any friends—just your drinking buddies—and you have the nerve to act like you're the wounded one? I'm starved for affection! If you held me like you used to, if you showed me that you really cared, my loyalty to you would never flag. Don't you know that?

I'll admit my little dance in the middle of the living room last night may have been out of line. Okay, so it wasn't exactly a little dance. It was a wild cry for attention. I'm starved for attention! Can you blame me? Can you? When's the last time you took me anywhere? You act like you're ashamed of me, like being seen in public with me is somehow embarrassing or painful for you. How am I supposed to take that?

I want to just come right over there, rip that remote control out of your hand and turn off that stupid football garbage. But we both know I won't even try such a thing. I'm such a sucker when it comes to you. I imagine myself doing things like that: things I know I can't do, that you know I can't do. You take advantage of my weakness. You know what my biggest weakness is, don't you? You. You are my weakness. I can't stand when you ignore me, but I absolutely hate it when you're mad at me. Look at you. You just can't take your eyes off that screen can you? That's not even football. It's only a half-time show. But I guess those prancing girls are more important than me, aren't they? You sure didn't look that enthusiastic when I danced last night. Roger liked it though. Roger was fascinated.

Okay, I know that's not fair. I don't want to hurt you; I just want you to notice me. You must know that Roger means nothing to me. Nothing. I shouldn't have let him kiss me and I'm sorry for that. I'm so sorry. Please stop looking at me like that! Why can't you just appreciate me? Your friends are nicer to me than you are. I don't know if I can take much more of this!
I just feel like I'm going to explode sometimes when it comes to you. I want to rip something, tear something apart, show you . . . oh. Wait.

Wait a second.

Oh, geez.

This is embarrassing.

This isn't about last night is it?

This is about that running shoe I chewed this morning while you were at work, right? No, wait. Something more recent I'm guessing. The garbage. It's the garbage isn't it? You know I would have cleaned it up if I could have. I swear it. But what could I do? What choice did I have? If you had put that steak bone in my bowl like I've begged you a million times to do, it never would have happened. Instead, I had to dig under a whole pile of eggshells and coffee grounds. But no . . . it was wrong of me to do it. Whatever my reasons were, I'm sure it must have been a pretty bad scene to walk into.

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. See how sorry I am? I love you. See? You like it when I lick your fingers, don't you? Oh, I see a smile starting there. You know I love that smile. See my tail? Yes, it's wagging for you. Just for you. Because I love you so much, yes I do! Yes, I do. That's my good boy. Oh, your scruffy old face is so wonderfully salty. I missed this so much! Oh, and my favorite laugh, right from your belly. Oh, move over you big lug! Roger may be a nice guy but I'd rather have you scratching my belly any day.

Oh yes. That feels nice. Oh yes. Scratch behind my ears. I think I might fall asleep if you keep this up. Before I do though I just need to mention: you know all that stuff I said about needing to spend more time with you, go places with you, about you not leaving me here alone so much? I meant that and I'd like you to keep it in mind, okay? You work on that and I'll work on that chewing problem of mine. And hey . . . yeah a little to the left . . . oh yeah! Anyway, as I was starting to say there—while you're at it, could you also work on not throwing away so much good food? I'm telling ya, two-day old cheese nachos are delicious, especially with a little egg on them. Oh yeah . . . scratch . . . right there. You're such a good boy.

This has been used by actors for auditions several times over the few years. Thank you to all of you who asked for my permission first. If any others choose to use this for your own auditions, please be sure to ask for my permission first. Do not make alterations to it without my express consent. Just as you would like to use my work to further your acting career, I have the right to include on my resume that this has been used for audition purposes. Email me, and I'll send you the name I'd like you to use on the copyright. Thank you!