May 1, 2013

• Less is Less (No Matter What They Tell You)

  Annie is balled up on the couch, napping while she waits for Nancy to go to work. Annie is becoming a work dog. When she stays home with me she barks frantically at every passing pedestrian. This has become so pronounced that last night we took Ilah out to dinner at a local restaurant and then drove around on the river tour, admiring the heights of our local rivers (not surprisingly there are three of them) and Nancy sat in the back seat and growled every time she saw a dog. “We hate those,” she muttered under her breath. The dogs were both at home. Annie does not bark at work. I’m not sure what she does. Greets customers.  Discusses quantum physics with the cat.

  Up until a minute ago Riley was outside, basking in the sunshine and delightful weather. He came in, probably to check on his breakfast. Annie wakes up, dashes outside, does her morning work and then goes directly to the laundry room to await her breakfast. We now feed her in various dispensers that require her to ramble around the house, nosing her dispensers into the walls and other barriers so she has to work for her food because if we put it in a dish she eats it in 30 seconds or less and comes back for more. For a while she would come looking for Riley’s food, but it appears he found a way to discourage that.

  And right about here I find myself thinking, The cat is…  I still miss the surly little bugger, not in a grieving, painful way, but out of habit. For almost twenty years the cat was always somewhere. I would not force him to return to a life that had become gradually intolerable as he aged and sickened, but I do miss that independent companionship.

  Today not only am I a disillusioned and disgruntled writer, I appear to be growing a sty in my eye. I thought at first it had magically healed this morning, but, not so much. So I am both bitter and annoyed. Tonight we have our first obedience class, in which we will see if Annie can control herself around other dogs long enough to learn anything. We have been working with her. 

  So. Another example of the unpublished and unappreciated works of the Unknown Writer. Short, SHORT fiction.

   

  Sleep

   

              I was laying here in my bed last night—it must have been three o’clock in the morning—when I caught myself thinking about what an asshole you must be to treat your dog the way you do. I couldn’t sleep because your dog was howling. You dog howls every night. You probably think the entire neighborhood is just used to that sound. We have infinite patience with your training process which so far, by my rough calculations, has taken about three years.

   

              You would be wrong.

   

              I frankly don’t care what your dog has or hasn’t learned by now.

   

              What I care about is that he howls all night.

   

              You must have nerves of steel to ignore the anguish in that dog’s cries.

   

              I don’t.

   

              I don’t leave my dog outside all night for exactly that reason. I brought my dog inside. You probably don’t even know I have a dog. That’s because he doesn’t howl. He hardly ever barks. I trained my dog. Every household on your block has a dog: yours is the only one that howls. So frankly, none of us are all that impressed with you.

   

              We would steal your dog and give him to a new home with people who actually give a damn about a dog, but we’re afraid the silence would wake you up.

   

              But you know what? I’ve been lying here in this blessed silence for about an hour now and you haven’t even turned on a light.

   

              There are no police at my door.

   

              I’m beginning to think that by the time you realize your dog is gone, my brother is going to be half-way to Florida with his new dog. Which used to be your old dog. But you know what? My brother and I decided, about four-thirty this morning, that some people just don’t deserve to own a dog, and you’re one of them.

   

              My brother was going back to Florida anyway. He lives there.

   

              God, it’s quiet.

   

              A person could just drift off to sleep in a peaceful neighborhood like this.

   

   

   

   

   

   

  • 9:26 am
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