Friday, June 29, 2007

my dog's voice

It is three in the morning, and I have enough things on my mind to convince me that it is a moot point to think that I will fall back to sleep. There is no culprit here, no major things, only mundane work related deadlines and such that form a loop in my thoughts that replay over and over.

Franklin the dog lies in a perfect line between partner and me, perfect in the sense that in the past his inclination is always to sleep across the bed. In this smaller space he adapts to the human pattern of sleeping north-south rather than east-west. Maybe he will stay in bed, I think to myself as I decide to get up.

I grab a couple of books to take with me to the living room and find my glasses. By the time I am ready to get up, he is standing on the edge of the bed, prepared to make his leap down to the ground. I grab him under my arm and set him down on the floor.

We quietly walk down the hall, and he stands next to me, waiting. I look up, and he is patiently standing there looking at me. This is all done in silence, but it is as if we had a conversation that went something like:

Me: I thought you might be sleepy enough to go right back to sleep.

Him: I need to go outside.

Me: Five minutes ago, you were in a deepl sleep.

Him: I need to go outside.

Me: Ok, ok.

Him: Thank you.

This is only in my imagination, of course, but I wonder if his Thank you is sarcastic, as in What took you so long to understand that if you're up, I'm up, and if you go to the bathroom, then it is only right that I get a shot at doing so as well. Afterall, my bladder is smaller than yours...

I get his leash and we go downstairs.

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