The Goldador

The Goldador lived close to the center of town. So close, in fact, that it was easy to stop in for the small abode was en-route to anywhere in the town. And so, naturally, we all (or at least I) stop in whenever we’re in the neighborhood. Or not in the neighborhood at all, both the same. It had quickly become a habit to drop by, whether The Goldador was there or not. And when it was apparent that he was not, a photo of his company by the door would be sent to be replied with a straight faced emoji.

It was a particularly rainy day that I had dropped by The Goldador’s. I don’t distinctly remember as to why I was out, especially in such weather. But I didn’t have an umbrella, not that I usually minded, but my brown cargo shorts were soaking through and my raven strands sticking to my temples.

I bounded up The Goldador’s front steps onto the old porch. The paint resembled white as well as blue but one could not be sure.¬†Upon the wood were several chairs, coating of chipping pastel colors. They rocked beside a few woven basket and side tables with peeling paint.

“Come outside.”

I texted The Goldador and was replied with a,

“Why?”

“Just come outside!”

It took a few minutes, but he eventually did. The Goldador opened the mahogany door. His expression was of perplexity under his wire-framed glasses, his pale eyes glossing over the unusual scene in front of him. The Goldador scuffled onto the porch in his forest plaid sweat pants with one paw in the left pocket and the other running through his lawn-like brunet hair.

“What?” He mouthed, a hint of a smile on his thin lips and ears perked up. He approached me, with an unmistakable sway in his step. The Goldador looked to me as if to ask why I was there. I motioned over with a certain glimmer in my eyes.

The Goldador, I have learned, is selectively active. Between periods of dog naps were bursts of puppy-like energy. Although, these periods were rather unorganized as this often lead to The Goldador scurrying about to finish the unfinished. I’ve seen him go through books in our first semester gym class as freshman when they were due the next period. Admirable, though lazy.

“It’s a surprise.” He protested furiously before admitting that he had somewhere to be, to which I pouted and turned back into the rain. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Advertisements

One thought on “The Goldador

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s