A Stray’s Tale
by Michael T. Schaper
What is love? Eva wondered. Where do the boundaries between two people start and end? She took a moment to glance once more at the young man sitting quietly next to her in the kitchen. In the light of the full moon, he looked so vulnerable and innocent that she felt almost guilty for wanting him.
She leaned over and tussled his hair, then served up the steak he’d been waiting for so patiently. “Hope you like it.”
Ralph — for that was the name they knew him by — simply grinned and gave a low growl of pleasure as he demolished the meal in front of him.
Eventually, he pushed back the empty plate and picked a little piece of meat from between his teeth. “Sure beats the canned muck I usually get.”
Eva shrugged. “It’s the least I could do, even if it’s only a few times a month.”
“Thanks for letting me in again.” Ralph glanced stoically outside at the wide lawn terraces and lush old trees. It was a huge piece of greenery in the middle of a crowded busy city, testimony to the wealth of a busy husband who was never there to enjoy it with Eva. “This is a lovely garden, but...”
Eva nodded in sympathy. “But...?”
Ralph gestured outside. “It’s just a yard, after all. I don’t want to be out there all the time.”
“You want to be in here, don’t you?” She leant in closer and stroked the side of his face. “I mean, it’s a helluva step up from the refuge, but it’s still not enough, is it?”
Ralph said nothing, so she continued on.
“You’re still getting used to the way most people do things, aren’t you?”
He nodded, uncertainly.
Eva slipped her left hand into his, held it gently for a moment. They intertwined fingers, and she held it up to the moonlight. “So soft, so well groomed,” she murmured, and, just lightly, kissed his fingertips.
Ralph laughed, a little nervously, a little uncertain. “Didn’t they tell you,” he asked, “that they clipped my nails when they registered me?”
It’s a strange old world, isn’t it? Eva thought to herself. Who’d have thought that the stray she and her husband had adopted from the lost dog’s home would have turned out to be so fetching? Just those few nights every month, when the moon turned full.
Ever since she’d first brought Ralph home and discovered his secret, Eva had begun to fantasize about what that could lead to. Sheer animal magnetism, she told herself sometimes, when she thought about it. Now, tonight, she was determined to find out.
They sat there quietly, hands together in the moonlight, as the clock ticked on into the early morning and the unspoken frisson continued to grow.
She loosened her grip and scratched him playfully, just behind the ears. Ralph arched his back in pleasure and groaned a little. “We don’t have a lot of time,” Eva whispered quietly, “before dawn. Here’s something I want to show you, teach you about.”
She began to unbutton the top of his shirt, then paused when she noticed for the first time an old welt around his neck.
Ralph grimaced. “Bet they didn’t tell you this either,” he whispered. “They used to make me wear a collar until they microchipped me instead.”
“Oh, my love,” Eva whispered.
“Just part of registration, they told me.”
Now it was his turn to edge in closer to her. He leaned over and laid a hand gently on her thigh. Eva thought she could almost hear him whimpering with excitement.
“You feel it, too, don’t you, Ralph?”
This is somewhat weird, Eva told herself, but who cares? Besides, no one’ll know in the morning. It’ll just be me and my pet again, as far as anyone else knows.
And it had been so very long since anyone had been close, so intimate with her.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt, tossed it away and then loosened her own. Then gently, tentatively, Eva reached further down, felt for the belt on his pants, and began loosening it.
“Don’t you want to know how people show love to each other?” she whispered.
He nodded.
She reached down inside his jeans and then stopped, abruptly. Eva looked up at him, confused.
“That’s the other thing about registration that I guess they didn’t tell you,” Ralph said with regret. “They also had me spayed.”
Copyright © 2026 by Michael T. Schaper
