Petrichor

In today's story, Petrichor, Ed introduces his new dog to his old friend

Today's prompt was inspired by the ongoing rain in Northern Virginia. If you have a suggestion for a writing prompt, please let us know! 

More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to let go of perfection and encourage writing for fun.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 165 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:

Welcome to Freely Written, where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction.  

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty, and today’s prompt is Petrichor.

We can thank the weather for today’s writing prompt. Here in Northern Virginia, it has been raining for many, many days. I have mixed feelings about all of this rain. On the one hand, we needed some rain. And it did cool things down after last week’s brutal heat wave. On the other hand, I miss the sun. 

Yet overall, I do love the rain. I love the sound of rainfall, especially when it’s falling through leaves. I also love the smell of ozone before a storm and the smell of rain landing on the ground. That latter scent has been poetically dubbed petrichor.  

And so, as I sat down on another rainy day, petrichor was the first word that came to mind. Well… that’s kind of true. Umbrella occurred to me first, but that brought up too many distracting thoughts of Tom Holland’s epic lip sync battle… Clearly, petrichor is the safer choice. 

As a reminder, my Freely Written process is simple. I sit down with a prompt and write whatever comes to mind, with no planning and very little editing. Then, I record the story and share it with you. 

Here’s where that led today:

Petrichor

Darrin and Ed stood side by side in Ed’s fenced backyard. They both faced away from the house, looking intently at a sleek greyhound with a brindle coat and a white muzzle. The greyhound stood confidently, one ear cocked, waiting to see what would happen next. 

“Petrichor?” Darrin asked, his voice unsure as it formed the word.

“Yep, Petrichor,” Ed confirmed. “It suits him, doesn’t it?”

Darrin’s eyes drifted over the dog’s long lines, considering. 

“I don’t know,” he answered at last. “I mean, it’s not a name you hear every day.”

“Well, yeah,” Ed agreed easily before holding up a ball and moving it from side to side. “You want the ball? You gonna catch the ball? Ready?”

He pulled his arm back, then threw the ball half the length of the large backyard. Petrichor tore after it, catching the ball in mid-air, then running it around the fence line in large, loping laps. 

Ed laughed, saying, “He’s great at catching, but don’t expect him to bring the ball back.” 

They watched the dog race across the grass, then flop into a sunny patch with the ball between his front paws. 

“But isn’t it a kind of… odd name?” Darrin asked, surprising Ed, who had thought they were done with that conversation. 

“What do you want me to name him? Spot? Fido? Bandit? Look at him! He’s a beautiful dog. Regal! He deserves a dignified name.”

Petrichor rolled to one side, his legs splayed in awkward directions and his face pressed into the grass. Ed glanced at Darrin as if to say, Well, maybe not regal at the moment. Then rolled his eyes and smiled. 

Ed was distinctly pleased with his dog adoption. He’d wanted a greyhound for some time and had had to wait for the local rescue group to bring in some new dogs. 

“It’s also a play on his call name,” Ed admitted uneasily. “So, it’ll be easier for him to adjust.”

“What’s his call name?” Darrin asked, following as Ed approached Petrichor with soft cries of, “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?”

Once he was in reach, Ed swooped down to grab the ball. Petrichor’s tail thumped against the ground before he rolled up to his feet. As soon as Ed lobbed the ball, he was again off and running, taking the ball for another few laps around the yard.

“Is that like the name they used during races?” Darrin persisted, despite Ed’s heavy sigh.

“No, greyhounds usually have a race name and a shorter call name they use in the kennel. A lot of adopters change the name. The dogs don’t mind.”

Darrin flinched at Ed’s defensive tone and muttered a hasty apology for asking. 

“No, it’s okay,” Ed assured him. “He just had kind of a stupid race name. They said it was some kind of inside joke between the owners. Something about how he was a gift to end some kind of feud, or whatever.”

“Ah.” Darrin nodded, watching Petrichor loll in a new part of the yard. He was not going to ask the dog’s race name. Ed clearly didn’t like talking about it, and he didn’t need to know. But his brain turned over the name Petrichor, testing for words that might sound the same and have something to do with a feud. 

“Petty Beef,” Ed suddenly offered. “His race name was Petty Beef. Like petty thief, I guess.”

“Or like beef patty,” Darrin returned. “If you switch the words around.”

Ed turned to him with his whole face scrunched in disgust. 

“Oh, or… not…” Darrin conceded weakly. “It was probably more like petty thief.” 

Crossing his arms, Ed looked back at his new dog and smiled. 

“Off track, in the kennel, they just called him Petty. So, Petty… Petrichor. It works. I’ll probably call him Petty some, too. As a nickname.”

“Or Petri,” Darrin suggested brightly, then shook his head. “Oh, that’s not good.” 

“Yeah, well, his name is Petrichor now.” 

Darrin nodded, wanting to agree with Ed’s decision. But it felt like there might be a window here. A chance to offer options before the dog settled in and learned his new name. 

“It’s just that…” 

“What?” Ed interrupted. “What don’t you like about my dog’s name?”

They stood together, feeling the tension that desperately needed to be released. Darrin knew he could back off. He could say that, on consideration, there was nothing wrong with the name Petrichor. He’d just needed a minute to get used to it. 

Instead, he said, “Well, petrichor is the smell of rain. So, don’t you think people will hear it and think of how a wet dog smells?”

Ed blinked at Darrin. He had an urge to bark at him. Not just yell angry words, but actually bark like a dog. Bark until Ed was chased from his backyard. 

Instead, he allowed a heavy sigh and said, “No, I don’t think people will think of that. And I don’t care if they do. He’s my dog. I like the name. So, his name is Petrichor.”

Darrin nodded his head in large, acquiescent bobs. 

“Sure, yeah. No, I think you’re right. You know, maybe I’m just way overthinking it. With Janine due in a month, we’ve really been hitting the baby name books. Just tearing apart every name, looking for anything that might make it a bad choice. Easy to tease, hard to spell, all that stuff.”

“Right.” Ed nodded more thoughtfully. “Have you picked a name yet?”

He looked at Darrin, who shifted uneasily. 

“Well, we have… But Janine really doesn’t want anyone to know until the baby’s born.”

“Oh?” Ed asked with a raised eyebrow and a slowly spreading smile. “Why not?”

Darrin saw Ed’s mocking expression and hung his head sheepishly. 

“Yeah, she doesn’t want anyone to say bad things or try to change our minds.” 

They stood side by side, watching as Petrichor got to his feet and walked their way, leaving the ball in the grass. Ed stooped to run his hands over the dog’s long, lean body. Darrin noticed Petrichor’s ribs and hoped he’d put on more weight now that he was a retired racer.

“You’re a good boy,” Ed crooned before standing back up. When he faced Darrin, there was a relaxed smile on his face. 

“You want a beer?” 

Darrin returned his smile, hoping it sufficed as an apology. 

“Yeah, a beer sounds good.” 

They went into the house, stepping aside to let Petrichor enter between them. As Ed shut the sliding patio door, the sound of thunder in the distance made him laugh out loud. 

The End 

Thanks for listening. I don’t know how I got from petrichor the word to a dog named Petrichor. Maybe the pet at the beginning of the word. Basically, I wrote about two men standing in a backyard looking at something. The something became a dog, and it went from there. 

If you liked this story, please share it with your friends. It would also mean the world to me if you’d check out my novels and other books. If you prefer listening, my first novel, The Insistence of Memory, is now available as an audiobook. 

Learn more on my website, SusanQuilty.com, or by searching for “Susan Quilty” wherever you buy books. There are also links in the show notes. 

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]