Hound Alone

      My masters turned the air conditioning off to cut down on the electricity bill.   I don’t know what that means, but I feel like a live lobster in a pot of boiling water on the stove.   Those leftovers are yummy.  I walk over to my food bowl.  There’s lots of dry brown pebbles for me to eat, but there’s only a little bit of water in the other bowl.   Why did they fill my food bowl and not the water bowl?   It doesn’t make any sense.   I stick my tongue out, pant, and go into the kitchen so I can lie on the kitchen tiles.  At least at night they’re cool, but now they’re luke warm, so I start to breathe harder.  Usually breathing harder makes me feel cooler, but it doesn’t work, so I flip on my side and lick the sweat off my belly.   The sweat is warm, salty, and yummy, but then I feel more thirsty.  

      Then I remember the dog I used to live with.  (I had a crush on her.). I haven’t seen her in ages, but what she would do when this happened is she’d go to the bathroom, go on her hind legs (like she was begging), and drink from the water bowl humans go potty in.   They flush their potty when they’re done with it, so it’s clean water, but I’m so thirsty and hot right now, I’d drink almost anything.  So, I go to the room where the potty water bowl is, but the door is closed and I’m not big enough to open it.   So, I go to the other door with the water bowl where humans go potty, but it’s closed too.  Dang it!   I keep panting and sweating.  

      Then, a miracle starts to happen.  See, according to Mommy and Daddy, someone called The Land Lord is a jerk and never does any Work Orders Mommy and Daddy put in.   So, I start to hear the great sounds which used to scare me, but now sound like Mozart.   Thunder, lightning, and rain.  Hallelujah!!   Then, I start to hear it in the family room:  drip, drip, drip.   It’s water.  I look up to see where it’s dripping and go back to the kitchen to lap it up.  I’m still thirsty though.  Then, suddenly, the rain stops and the dripping stops.  I’m still thirsty, but I feel an oddity in nature:   Us mammals can be thirsty and have to go pee at the same time.  So I go to the front door, but there’s no one to let me out.   I hold it in until I can’t hold it in anymore, then I tinkle on the floor.  I put my tail between my legs.  I’ve been a bad dog.  

*

     I smell it:  the pee.  Us dogs do this so we know where other dogs have been.  I smells like me and I’m thirsty, so I lap it up.  It tastes gross, but is refreshing at the same time and for a moment I don’t feel thirsty and I don’t have to go anymore.   I go back to my food bowl, smell my dog food, and eat a quarter of my dog food.  The bad taste is out of my mouth and the moisture in my throat makes it easier to swallow my dog food.  Then, I go on my Doggy bed and take a nap.  I feel a bit better.  

      Then I wake up and it’s dark:  I can’t see anything.   I mean the sun went down and they didn’t just forget to leave water, but they also forgot to leave any lights on.   Some humans think dogs have better eyesight than they do, but that’s wrong.  We have better ears and noses, but we can’t see as many colors as humans and we can’t see in the dark.  Right now, I can’t see anything, so I lift my ears up and hear cars on the road.  It’s cold, so I go to the bedroom where the carpet is.  I shiver.  At least I don’t have to pee anymore.  

      I feel scared though, so I go to the front door and whine to try to get someone’s attention outside.  I breathe in the cold air and breathe out a painful moan for an hour, but no one hears me.   I have to go out again to go potty, but there’s no one to let me out.   I try to remember the way to the front door and find it.  

         I have another accident, it smells, but I feel warmth from it, so I roll in it.   It feels warm, soft, and comforting, like when humans put on down coats, but after a half-an-hour, it smells, but doesn’t feel warm.  This morning I would’ve done anything for cool, now I’d do anything for warmth.  

      Dogs can hear our owners’ car from a block away, so I pause and listen.   I hear the neighbors talking about the summer and saying they wished they owned a pool.  I hear the fan from their air conditioning/ heating twirling, making a calm noise and I hear a neighbor dog lapping up water from the sewage drain.   I wish I was that dog.  

      The house smells from me.   If my humans come home, they’ll scold me.   I couldn’t help it.   But, even though they’ll yell at me, I wish they’d come home, even if it’s just to turn on the heating unit.   I go back to my dog bed and curl up in a Doggy ball to conserve heat.   I wish someone would tuck me in by covering me with my warm blanket, but no one’s here.  

*

      Then, as I’m about to fall asleep, I hear the familiar sound of their engine purring.   I can even hear the children’s voices.   I get out of my bed, go to the front door, and wag my tail.   I hear my family talking, sounding happy.   Then, I hear the lock turn and hear my family come in.   They bring in thick plastic bags filled with toys and clothes.  They turn on the heat.   Then, the son asks, “What’s that smell?”   They see the mess I’ve made.  That night I got a scolding, a bath, and they threw away my bed, but they cleaned up my messes, refilled my food and water bowl, and the warm bath felt great on my cold body.   That was the last time they left me at home.