Free Traveling Light by Andrea Thalasinos

day.
    “Your pet is not to be left unattended in the room at any time.”
    “What if I’m in the shower?”
    He looked at her.
    She placed her debit card on the counter.
    As the elevator doors opened, Fotis shirked backward. As per the advice of her mentor the cabbie, she picked Fotis up and placed him in the elevator before she dragged in the shopping bags. As it lifted to the third floor, Fotis hit the floor splayed out from the sensation of increased gravity.
    The hotel room smelled like cloves and vanilla. The décor was contemporary shades of white and beige, like a high-end spa.
    Fotis was panting, his eyes wide.
    “I bet you’re thirsty,” she said. Crouching down, she rifled through the bags, searching out the Bubble-Wrapped ceramic French bowls. Busting open the plastic of the first one, she carried it into the spa-like bathroom, turned on the faucet and waited, testing the water’s coolness before filling the bowl.
    Fotis watched.
    She tottered out with a topped-off bowl, careful not to spill as the water sloshed dangerously close to the rim. She placed the bowl onto the carpet by the bed.
    The dog began drinking furiously. Water cascaded over the rim, splashed over the sides from his tongue, drenching the sand-colored carpet.
    “Shit, shit, shit.” She scurried into the bathroom and grabbed a plush white hand towel and began blotting the floor.
    He emptied the bowl and looked at her.
    “More?” His ears twitched, brow furrowed in confusion.
    She lifted the bowl—realizing she’d used the one marked “food” in French—but shrugged and stepped in to refill it. This time she lowered it down onto the travertine bathroom floor. Fotis sniffed the bowl again and then, after several more healthy slurps, looked up at her, water spilling profusely from his mouth as he walked out into the carpeted suite to explore.
    “Jesus Christ.” She followed with the towel, trying to catch water dripping from his whiskers, lips. Who would have thought drinking water would be such a sloppy enterprise?
    “You hungry?”
    Fotis watched as she peeled the Bubble Wrap off the second bowl. Tearing open the dog food bag, she poured in kibble to the rim. She lifted the bowl to entice him. “Yum.” She raised her eyebrows. Fotis didn’t seem impressed. “Here.” She placed it down next to the water on the bathroom floor.
    He didn’t move.
    “Aren’t you hungry?”
    Fotis looked right and left as if checking for cars and then strolled over to the bowl. With a cursory sniff, he looked back at her with an expression that made her laugh out loud.
    “What?” She lifted both hands. “You don’t like it?”
    He glanced at the bowl again and then turned away.
    “Okay, so spanakopita it ain’t.”
    He barked sharply. It echoed off the bathroom’s stone walls.
    Paula startled.
    Fotis stared at her with bright eyes, limbs stiffened as if ready to jump.
    Her skin prickled.
    She was a little frightened of this strange excitement. He didn’t even blink. Alone with a large-toothed furry creature she didn’t understand; maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Such an intense stare, primed to pounce.
    “Spanakopita?” she asked sheepishly.
    He barked again.
    “Okay, okay. Shhhh.” She held a finger up to her lips.
    His ears stood up, even the floppy one.
    “Kathe se,” she told him to sit in Greek.
    His butt hit the floor, face alert as if he was proud of showing off his skills. She turned and began rummaging through the shopping bag to grab the package of hamburger-shaped treats. Ripping it open, she handed one over.
    Fotis gently took it.
    “Kalo skilo [good dog].”
    His tail thumped the carpet.
    It stunned her how obvious this was: Fotis understood Greek.
    “Pa me exo?” she asked if he wanted to go out.
    Fotis woofed softly and hurried excitedly to the door, rubbing the latch with his muzzle.
    “Okay, okay, okay.” She chuckled. “Tha paou [let’s go].” There was a Greek food cart near the dog park. She