Portrait of a Dog

He tells me that I remind him more of a cat than a dog. I don’t take this as an insult. Humans are the ones who invented the rivalry between cats and dogs. I don’t have anything against cats. As a matter of fact, it’s other dogs that worry me more, cats tend to stick to their business while other dogs stick their snouts up your behind, trying to figure out what you had for breakfast, or they’ll walk up to your bowl and start eating your food without asking. Anyway, I’m happy that it is just me and him in the house, we are like roommates, except I’m more like the bum who just sits around all day doing nothing while he works, cleans, cooks, pays the bills, and all those other mundane things that humans are forced to do to survive. I’ve never understood why they complicate things so much. Eat and sleep. What else do you need? Perhaps I am a little ignorant coming from such a privileged position that my owner affords me. I always find it funny to refer to him as my owner, it implies that he has some power over me and yet I am the one who sleeps, eats, and shits all day while he is the one who toils outside in the sun, feeds me, and picks up my shit. If the title of owner helps him feel any better, then by all means he can have it. I am not much for honorary titles.

So as you can already tell I have a good life. It’s pretty simple, not too exciting, not many surprises. Usually we wake up pretty early. He wakes up first and starts messing with that phone of his. I don’t know what is with that thing but given the amount of time he spends with it and how much he stares at it, I am sure he loves it more than he loves me. Anyway, he wakes up and stares at that thing. The sound of his movements in bed are what wake me up. I try to keep my eyes closed as long as possible without getting up, but I’ll occasionally peek to see what he is doing. Eventually, the urge to pee hits me and even though I try to stay in bed and hold it in as long as possible (I hate to give up the warmth of my bed) this never lasts long. I haven’t peed in over eight hours usually, so my bladder is pretty full. I get up and walk to the door. Despite living together so many years, this guy always seems surprised to hear my footsteps as I walk to the door. He bursts out of bed and I can hear him rush around as he basically sprints to the door. By this point the dam is ready to burst and I am dancing in circles. Once the door is open, I carefully stand to check what the conditions outside are. Too often I have jumped without looking, straight into a pile of cold snow or into a pouring rainstorm, but I’ve learned my lesson. I carefully step outside and begin to look for a place to pee. I can tell he gets annoyed and doesn’t understand my methods, but I find that piling on waste in the same spot is disgusting. I like to spread it out, so I look for an uncontaminated patch of ground. In the winter, space is limited when it snows. I hate walking in that stuff so I try to find any small patch of grass, even if it has been used.

Once I do my business I like to inspect the goods whether it’s pee or poop. I’ve seen my fair share of dogs who get pulled away as they inspect the fruits of their labor but I am lucky enough to be allowed to examine the fine specimens I’ve laid out before he picks it up. I must admit, I enjoy the aroma of my own brew.

This is one of the few times I get to step outside and explore the world beyond the door, so I try to make the most of my time outdoors. My snout is overwhelmed by all the smells. I can tell other dogs have come by, and when I have the chance, I try to cover up their scent: this is my territory and I let them know it. I am thankful for the trust my owner has in me; he doesn’t put a leash on me and he lets me roam. He occasionally panics if I get remotely close to the road, and he runs out and herds me back to the door and inside. Other times, I will admit I take advantage of the situation and play stupid to get some more time outside. I love the smell of other dogs, the smell of the wet dirt and of other creatures that wander outside. I love the songs the birds sing as they cautiously watch me, perched on the highest branches of the trees. I love to see the squirrels as they scurry around the ground and jump from branch to branch, always keeping an eye on me. If I was a few pounds lighter and a few years younger, I might try to give chase, but now, in this latter part of my life, I enjoy simply watching their acrobatic shows.

Eventually, it is time for me to go inside. It’s annoying sometimes, when I am on the trail of something good and he suddenly steps right in front of me and ruins my concentration, but I also understand that he has more responsibilities than me. Once inside, it is my turn to repay him for watching over me and protecting me from some of the more dangerous creatures outside. I peek into the bathroom to see how he is doing. I know he likes to keep the door closed, so I try to just crack it open. He is more worried about his privacy than about being attacked by whatever monster lives in that bowl whose terrifying roar frightens me. That’s another reason why I only peek and never go fully inside.

Once we are both done with our morning business, it is time to eat. Can you believe that although we have spent over ten years together he seems to always forget to feed me? I try to be polite and get his attention by following him around and giving him the saddest look I can, with my eyes wide open, trying to make them watery as if I’m crying, with a slight frown. If that doesn’t work, I speak up and bark. This last tactic almost always immediately reminds him of my needs. He then serves me my scoop of kibble which I ration out, since it will be a long time before I get a second scoop. I do get tired of the kibble and having the same thing day after day, but there isn’t much else and it’s not like I can get food for myself. 

I try to finish quickly so I can find out whether I will be lucky today, whether I will get some crumbs or scraps of what he is eating. He is a messy eater, so I am usually fortunate enough to find something. Once I have my fill, I go to my bed in the living room and lie down to repose from my meal. I also get to spend some quality time with my owner. I enjoy just being in the same room as him, each of us doing our own thing. Occasionally as he walks by, he scratches my head or gives me a nice belly rub. I enjoy watching him as he is engulfed in his books. He seems at peace, which makes me feel at peace.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and eventually he has to leave. I try not to show any emotion and put on a brave face, but in reality I am sad to see him go. I worry about whether he will return. So far, he always has and I know he will always do his best to return, but no one knows what lies in that great beyond. 

Once I see him off, I go back to my bed and take another nap. As a matter of fact, I spend most of the day sleeping. I’ll get up and do a few laps around the house to make sure everything is fine. I’ll nibble on some more kibble and scan the floor for any more crumbs I need to get up. Some may say it seems pretty boring, but I enjoy it. I’d enjoy it more if my owner was with me, but we can’t have it all.

I know he is getting close to coming home once my bladder starts to fill. By the time he gets home I burst out and immediately look for a place to pee. I don’t even bother to greet my owner. Although I am extremely elated that he has arrived, if I wait any longer I will pee inside and that would upset him. After a day out and about, I know the last thing he wants is to step into a puddle of pee, and he would much rather I go out than pee inside. Once I am done, I return to greet him. I try to keep my calm but my tail wags with excitement and reveals my true emotions.

On some occasions he manages to surprise me with an early arrival. Sometimes it’s an early arrival that keeps him home the rest of the day while other times he is just making a quick pit stop. Either way, I take advantage of it and go outside to pee. I must admit I hate these quick pit stops which I feel are a total tease. I get my hopes up that we will spend the rest of the day in the living room reading or watching television, only for him to bolt back through the door. I wish he could understand the sadness and anxiety this causes me. The roller coaster going from excitement down to anxiety can be too much for the heart of this old dog.

In the afternoon, I have to once again go through the ritual of begging for my food. You would think that since I reminded him in the morning he would remember in the afternoon, but that is not the case. They say humans are smart but sometimes I wonder. Once I make my demands clear, he promptly feeds me, and sometimes if I am lucky I get a treat. As much as I want more treats, my digestive system is not what it used to be. I appreciate that he looks out for me and doesn’t simply spoil me. 

The afternoons are my favorite. My owner eats his dinner and I am usually guaranteed some delicious bits of juicy steak or chicken. I even enjoy the bits of vegetables and it’s usually just enough to satisfy me without giving me the runs.

Once our bellies are filled, we each go to our respective spots in the living room. He turns on the television and seems to turn off his brain. He has the same look that I have during the day as I stare at the door waiting for him to return. I don’t really understand what he is watching. There are just bright images and loud sounds that I don’t understand, but my owner seems relaxed, which once again relaxes me. Sometimes, he’ll pull his phone out and snap pictures of me. I must admit this appeals to my vain side and I will yawn or widen my eyes or stretch out to accentuate my best features for the picture. A lot of the pictures he takes of me are of me sleeping. He’ll often show the pictures to me as if he is asking for my approval. I don’t quite understand the appeal, but if that is what he enjoys, then who am I to disagree?

After some time we move into the library. This is where he seems the happiest. He lets himself go and it seems as if he floats along the books. He goes from book to book. It reminds me of when I let my snout guide me when I am outside. On occasion he will read to me from his book or discuss with me what he is reading. I don’t know exactly what he wants from me or what he expects me to do but I wag my tail and open my eyes so I can let him know that I am focused and listening. Unfortunately, no matter how much I love listening to him I am unable to stay focused and I begin to nod off. He’ll scratch me behind my ear to wake me up. I lean into it, hoping he won’t stop.

When he is a little sadder than usual, he’ll take a break from his reading and come down to play with me a bit more. I’ll wrestle with his hand as he makes it into a claw that I playfully bite at and he wrestles me down. My energy isn’t what it used to be but I still like romping around, especially if I know it will cheer him up. After a rousing match he’ll come over and give me a kiss on my head. I’ll lick his hand in case a hard bite or two slipped and hurt him. I am not sure if I am successful in helping him in these situations, but I hope so. If he had a tail, it would be easier to tell if his mood had improved.

Other times we just sit in silence. He stares at me and I stare at him. I can’t explain exactly what it is about them, but sometimes these are the moments I enjoy the most. 

Eventually his energy also starts to dissipate and it is time to get ready for bed. I make my way to the door so that I can have one last trip outside. I know that he is none too happy when I have had to wake him up in the middle of the night, so it’s best to get this over with now. I go outside and do my business and smell the scents the day has left behind. My owner gets anxious and hurries me. His eyesight in the dark isn’t the best. There have been multiple times where he has stubbed his toe or even stepped on me, which he always apologizes profusely for. My eyesight is not the best either and I sometimes wander into darker areas, forcing him to come outside and wrangle me in.

Once inside, it is time to get ready for bed. He goes through his routine. I keep an eye on him and make sure nothing happens to him in the bathroom. Once he is done, we both make our way to the bedroom. He changes his clothes, which I always find humorous; there is something about the fact that he has to change his fur that makes me chuckle inside. Sometimes it seems like such a hassle to be a human, between changing clothes and having to cook and going out and work, but I think it’s worth it for those little moments in the library with good company. I wait for him to lie down and turn off his light. I simply stare at him and try to take it all in. I know that there are only so many moments of company like these that we can enjoy, so I try to make them last as long as possible as I fight to keep my eyes open. With so many billions of people and probably over a billion dogs, it is amazing that our paths have crossed. As I lie there, I am thankful for his sacrifices and for the long list of coincidences that have brought us together. It might not seem like a lot to most people, but these small moments of company are more than anything I could have ever wished for.

The next morning, I wake up and notice that he is not in bed looking at his phone like he usually is. I walk through the kitchen, my bowl of water and kibble has been freshly filled, but he is not there. I peek inside the bathroom, but no one is in there either. I make my way to the front door, I hear some noise. The wooden door is open and I can see him through the screen door. He sees me out of the corner of his eye and opens the door for me. I look up and see snow gently falling, the entire street looks like it is made of white clouds. My owner leans on his shovel as he patiently holds the door open. Seeing the falling snow causes me to have some trepidation but his presence reassures me and I step out. I walk towards the small nook on the grass that has been cleared out for me to take care of my business. Once I finish with my routine, I make my way to the front door. I wait for my owner to come let me in. I look around but see no one and begin to grow anxious.

Just as I am about to bark, a sound catches my attention. It is the sound of laughter coming from the middle of the yard. I am able to make out a familiar face peeking just above the snow. Looking into the middle of the yard I see someone familiar, waving his arms and legs like some ethereal being, a joyful angel in a cold desert.