OK so the Black Dog’s innards have calmed down a bit. Thank god. Must have been all the leftover pork roast I snuck him. (That usage looks wrong, but is it? Isn’t ‘snuck’ the past tense of ‘sneak’? Or do I have to use ‘sneaked’? Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.)
I took the Black Dog for a walk when I got home from work, and it was STILL LIGHT. Enjoy your summer while you can, you Northern Hemispherians! Gravity has finally got a hold of that sucker and it’s on it’s way back down where it belongs. Not that I mind the cold (she says, basking like a lizard in front of the heater) but the dark, the CONSTANT DARK. Dark when I get up, dark when I get home. I need the light. I’m like an anti-vampire. Which is to say, a human. How prosaic. Anyway, after a turn about the street (in which the Black Dog fell heavily on his face only once, and I didn’t fall on my face at all) we went back home and I swapped dogs to the Brown Dog. I was just walking him, but as we were almost home, a random man came up to us at the traffic lights and raved about him and started patting him (this happens all the time) which, OK. We had to stand there for the lights to change anyway. Then I realised he had a friend, standing behind me which is why I hadn’t noticed him, and his friend was swaying gently on his feet while holding a can of booze and muttering to himself. O….kay then. By this time the other guy was giving Brown Dog a full back scratch and Brown Dog was going all melty, right at the time I suddenly wanted him to be all stern and stranger-hating. Anyway, the lights changed and I decided to run the dog home. For no reason, you understand. It was rapidly getting dark as I accelerated away and by the time I reached home (with no one around me) I was completely buggered. The Brown Dog was all perky and ready to go another few kilometres, AND he’d had a back scratch for good measure. I, on the other hand, had to lie down on the floor to make the stars in my vision go away.
Look SCARY, dammit.