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.

passing

I found out this morning that Murphy, a neighborhood dog, died over the weekend. Nobody knows for sure how old he was, but he one day selected a family a few doors down and became their dog. He was a big tall dog, with lots of black hair. He refused all efforts at being locked up.

Franklin liked Murphy a lot, and when we went for walks around the townlet, he used to often accompany us. As Murphy got older, his arthritus became more painful, and when I saw him last week, struggling to walk, I wandered if maybe he was reaching the end.

A sweet, tough dog who roamed our part of the townlet as if he owned it, and I'm sure in his dog sense of the world, he did.

Murphy, the Airedales - Fred and Penny, are all gone now, Franklin's old pack. His cats are gone, too. I am hoping he will make new friends in NY.

Farewell, sweet Murphy.

heart of america

Saturday morning, I packed up all my cats' things, their litter box, their food, their toys. I cleaned out their carriers, and I put all this in the car. With cats and Franklin the dog, we drove out of town, southeast on I-70 to Effingham, Illinois, turned left at the giant white cross, and began the drive through the middle of the country, essentially down the MIssissippi River valley on I-57 and I-55.

Somewhere close to Effingham, it began raining, and it rained hard all the way through the rest of Illinois, Missouri and Arkansas, all the way to Memphis, with wind blowing, and lightning overhead. My cats rode in their carriers in the backseat, with towels covering them. They cried for a while and then became quiet. Franklin spent the first part of the trip looking out the window -- he has a seatbelt harness to keep him from becoming a canine missle in case we had to stop quickly == and then he settled down and slept on his rug that I had placed on his seat. Partner kept me company by cell phone, checking in as we made our way down the flat riverland. This is the middle of America, a very quiet center, a series of small towns and fields.

I drove through the rain without listening to the radio or music. We finally got to Memphis, and I unloaded the car in the hard falling rain. I met Partner's niece and her fiance, wonderful people who had said for some time that they would take care of our cats in Texas. They had gotten to Memphis a day earlier, so we stayed at a hotel close to Graceland. There were pictures of Elvis everywhere, something I hardly recognized at first.

All night, the cats nuzzled and cuddled with me. I didn't get much sleep. The next morning, we packed all their things in the truck going to Texas. The dog and I drove north, but this time there was little rain. I missed the I-57 exit and ended up taking a detour from Cape Girardeau, Missouri, across the Mississippi, taking a two-lane Illinois highway through Jonesboro and Anna, before finally getting back on I-57.

I didn't feel much like watching the Academy Awards. The dog and I turned in early to bed. Today begins my last week at work.

I miss my sweet cats, but am grateful that they have a safe, good home. Franklin will miss Jake -- they lay down next to each other, and sometimes Franklin convinces Jake to chase him. Chloe won't miss Franklin at all. It was hard saying goodbye to them, and it was hard when we got home and they weren't there. The work of moving to NYC picks up.