I was watching the Impeachment when the dog walked through the room and it occurred to me that golden retrievers are supposed to be nice. That dogs understand and appreciate they’ve been rescued is not always true. That dogs like to be petted is not always a good plan of attack. Take this one for instance.
I mainly need to know if I am a fool. My son doesn’t even ask for help with his school project and what do I know about Indonesia anyway?
I mean, the dog was probably abused, his stomach was full of rocks when he showed up. But you still don’t, like, tie a bandana around his neck and throw a frisbee.
This is the worst part of the day, walking to this appointment across the parking lot by the stadium and the bell tower. He won’t want to meet or be friendly or even acknowledge actual feelings. He’ll bring a lunch, the reason he’s late. Sometimes it’s hard not to see my whole big picture in this encounter.
Now the middle days of the virus, the start of the census. Wash your hands and tell the truth, they cough, but it’s hard not to lie on forms and have you seen how many people touch the hand sanitizer?
Be optimistic! There are plans in place. Next subject.
The dog sometimes requests attention (but then growls). My son needs something from the oven (after he burned himself). At this appointment I mentioned, I get up, I spin around, I stand on my head. Nothing works. A clown, like when your favorite team loses and you’re still wearing their jersey.
Sean Ennis is the author of CHASE US: Stories (Little A) and his flash fiction has recently appeared in Passages North, Hobart, (mac)ro(mic), and Bull Men’s Fiction. More of his work can be found at seanennis.net
image: Alan Tenhoeve