A Dog's Life

Shelby, Clark/Chloe futurefic
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Sequel to My Girl. Based on a prompt by Tobywolf13.
Picture from KryptonSite.

There was something wrong with The Girl.

She'd come home early, something she never did, and sprawled on the sofa-- also something she never did. The sofa actually belonged to me during the day, but I was willing to let her have it. I jumped up into a chair and watched her, my head on one side.

"I'm all right, Shelby," she told me, rolling her head on the pillow to look at me.

I wrinkled my forehead at her, giving her my best I'm-worried-about-you expression. She didn't look all right. She looked kind of pale and greenish and sweaty.

"Really. I'm fine." She turned her head back, and suddenly she made a funny noise, as if moving her head had been too much for her. She jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom, and I heard the unmistakable sounds of throwing up.

I knew all about throwing up. It's not a big deal for dogs. I've thrown up all sorts of stuff, from dead squirrels to underwear. But humans don't do it as much as we do, probably because they're not smart enough to eat grass when they feel a little icky. Or maybe it's just that they don't eat dead squirrels and underwear much.

They really don't know what they're missing.

I jumped off the chair and followed The Girl. I sat down just outside the open bathroom door and watched her as she bent over the toilet.

"I'm fine," she gasped between heaves. "Really."

I was pretty sure this wasn't any definition of fine I'd ever heard of. I whined a little.

"I just..." She sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead with a sleeve. "The thing is, Shel... I'm pregnant."

I cocked my head again. Preg-what?

She smiled a little at my puzzled expression, or maybe just because she was happy. "I'm going to have a baby."

I thought about that for a minute, and then my tail started to wave. You're going to have a puppy? Seriously?

"Yes," she said, reaching out and rumpling my ears. "In about six months, you're going to have a little someone to watch over."

Because I can't seem to learn how to make human words, no matter how hard I try, I couldn't say what I was thinking, which was Yay!!!! I did a little dance with my forepaws, which was my way of expressing excitement, and she laughed...

And then turned back to the toilet and threw up again.

*****

"I'm worried about you, Chlo."

The Boy was not happy. He'd come through the door this evening with a big chip on his shoulder, as The Man used to say, and he was clearly spoiling for a fight. His voice was a little louder than it needed to be, and the set of his shoulders said clearly that he was worried. I wanted to tell him to shut up and sit down, but no one ever listens to the dog.

Pity. It'd be a much better world if they did.

"I'm fine," The Girl answered. She had actually cooked dinner-- a clear sign that she was not her normal self, because The Girl and cooking went together like dogs and cats, which is to say, not at all-- and she was industriously arranging steak and mashed potatoes and green beans on plates. I was sitting near her, ready to clean up anything that might happen to fall.

The Woman used to call me a canine vacuum cleaner. But she spent a lot more time in the kitchen than The Girl does, and I used to get lots of good food when she lived in the house. With The Girl and The Boy, I'm lucky if they spill a little takeout. I hadn't seen steak in quite a while, and I was hoping someone might drop a little piece of it, sooner or later.

"You are not fine." If anything, The Boy's voice got louder. "You've left work early three days in a row. Chloe, I know you never get sick, but I really think you need to see a doctor."

"I already have," she said.

The Boy made a visible effort to settle down. "Okay. That's good. So what did they say?"

She turned and smiled at him, still holding a plate in one hand.

"I'm going to have a baby," she said.

The Boy stared at her stupidly, his mouth hanging open. I sighed.

Say something, kid. There are times when you don't bark nearly enough.

Sure enough, The Girl was starting to look anxious, as if she was afraid he wouldn't be pleased. Like it was all her fault or something. I try to give them some privacy, but I have sharp hearing, and I can tell you that The Boy had definitely been involved in the creation of the puppy.

Her lower lip started to tremble, just a bit. "I'm due in about six months," she said, very quietly. "I saw Dr. Hamilton... he thinks it's growing just about like a normal human baby would..."

Still The Boy didn't say anything, just stared at her. If I could have rolled my eyes, I would have.

Come on, kid, you're freaking her out. Talk.

"I just... I thought..." Her voice quavered. "Clark, are you upset about this?"

"Upset?" He looked at her for another minute, then suddenly grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her right up off the floor. She squealed and dropped the plate she'd been holding. The steak and fries hit the tile, and I got up, wagging my tail, and headed over to help myself.

Good job, kid. Glad you finally remembered how to talk.

He spun her around, the two of them laughing like idiots. I was glad to see that my humans were as happy as I was, and I cleaned up the food on the floor, my tail wagging happily.

A steak dinner, and a puppy on the way.

A dog's life didn't get any better than this.

-The End-