Black Dog


There are tricks I have when the black dog is visiting.

He doesn’t do much.

Just sits in the corner.

Which is unnatural in and of itself, in my experience. Dogs are sprawlers when they’re relaxed, just like cats. They don’t sit unless they want something or have been told to do it or both. Left to their own devices, they’re on their backs or on their bellies, not a care in the world.

This one sits and waits and takes up the whole corner of my office.

Just sitting and waiting.

For all I know, he does want something. You don’t visit someone for no reason. At least, I don’t. Dogs are the same way, I figure.

So he wants something and he’s sitting and he’s just…there.


So I turn my back to him and get on with it. That’s all I can do, really. All I’m willing to do, really. Turn my back on him and hope he doesn’t tear out my throat one day.

I feel like that bear guy, sometimes. The one that thought he was their friend and he went out into the woods and filmed them, recorded them, and I know he thought they were on the same page.

Of course, they weren’t.

But the black dog never moves and then he leaves and my office feels a little more open, a little more spacious and I can breathe again and that’s good and right.

I think, in the end, the trick is not to ignore the black dog. He comes and he goes and he makes his rounds, but he is a dog. And dogs are best dealt with scratches behind the ear and walks and trips to the vet.

Gotta take care of my dog, even if I didn’t exactly go down to the shelter and pick him up.



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