It’s past our walking time, and still he sits there tapping his fingers and staring at that screen. I nudge his elbow with my nose, but he pushes me away. I put my paw on his leg and dig the claws in just enough to make my point. That makes him jump, and now he’s cross with me. I go and lie down in the hall to give him time to calm down. After a while I bring him my favorite bone—the big red rubber one—and drop it in his lap. I’ve wet it well with my saliva to show my deep respect. But he rejects it just the same.
I hear that woman at the door rattling the mailbox, like almost every day. I bark out loud because he doesn’t seem to hear her, but he yells at me to shut up. I go back to lying down in the hall. What does he see on that screen that makes him scold me so? And how can it be more important than a walk outside? My heart feels heavy. I heave a sigh and try to sleep.
Finally I hear his chair roll back across the floor, and he’s walking past me toward the kitchen. I leap to my feet and follow close behind him. We stop at the sink where he puts down his cup. Then we go to the bedroom, and he takes off all his clothes. Then he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door in my face. I’m excited! This is how our walk time always starts. I hear the water gush, I lay down and try to be patient. It won’t be long now.
He comes out of the bathroom smelling much less like himself, like he’s rolled in something better left alone. I don’t care. He’s getting dressed, and I can hardly wait for what comes next. He leaves the bedroom and I’m right there by his side. He leans over and pets me on the head, ruffles up my ears and makes those happy people-barking sounds. I know that means he loves me and that he knows that I love him.
We’re standing at the door, and my leash is in his hands. I sit patiently until I hear that click that makes me want to lick his face. I beat my tail against his leg and press my nose against the door. He opens it. We’re finally on our way.
We reach the street. I can’t contain my joy. I leap straight up in the air. Then I lead the charge. The air outside is cooler, but the sun is bright and warm against my golden fur. A breeze is blowing in my face with a gazillion wild aromas. I smell squirrels up ahead and there are also birds and cats—and my favorite of them all—the other dogs. I sweep my nose along the ground and sniff the sidewalk and the grass, every tree and bush and lamppost, to see who else has been around. Sometimes I smell someone I’ve met before, and I piss there too to say hello. I drink a lot of water, so I can pretty much continue this all day.
At the base of a tree an intriguing mix of smells takes a little while to sort out. I realize this is where I ought to drop a load. He doesn’t rush me. He gives me time. When I’m done he picks my shit up in a bag. I’ve always wondered why he does that. He never takes it home.
E J Barron
E J Barron 