[Spoken slam — anxious sincerity; no beat, no rhyme] I am a good dog. I need you to remember that when we get to the part about your pillow. [Small, strained breath] HOO-man. I am standing beside the door. Not because I admire it. Something is happening inside me that requires access to the garden. Soon would be ideal. Immediately would demonstrate that you understand the situation. I have already performed the little dance. You know the one. Three steps toward you. A glance at the handle. The trembling expression you keep photographing instead of fucking interpreting. [Trying to remain polite] I brought you my leash. Put it directly on your foot. You said, “Awww. Not now, buddy.” Not. Now. That is an interesting proposal. Unfortunately, the other party is no longer accepting feedback. [Long pause; staring] There is a pressure. I will not describe the pressure. We are both adults. Well. You are an adult. I am whatever age you announce when strangers ask whether I bite. But I think we can agree that this is becoming a shared responsibility. [Whisper, with enormous seriousness] I nearly made a decision beside the television. Caught myself. Walked away. Nobody applauded. That was a private act of heroism and you were looking at your phone. I would like that acknowledged. [Restless; words begin spilling out] I have checked the other exit. Still a door. I have stared at the window. No assistance. I have approached the cat. She told me to use the box. The BOX. That woman has an indoor toilet and I have to submit a fucking request every time my body has an opinion. [Sudden shout] SHE GETS A BOX. [Collecting himself] I am not upset with the cat. I am upset with the arrangement. Although she did call me dramatic. From her bathroom. [Breathing through it] You are getting into bed. Ohhh, no. No, no, no. There appears to have been a catastrophic misunderstanding about the purpose of my visit. I am not tucking you in. I am not bringing you a little bedtime toy. That is the leash. Again. [Injured disbelief] You threw it. Across the room. And, yes, I retrieved it. That is not the fucking point. [Pause] I have now put my nose directly inside your ear. You have rolled over. Remarkable. I did not know a person could be this committed to receiving no information. You said, “Go lie down.” I tried. My body stood me back up. [Very quiet; almost emotional] I am trying so hard to remain the dog you tell people about. The one who knows the rules. The one who does the polite little sit before anybody opens anything. I am doing the sit right now. It has become an extremely technical manoeuvre. One wrong adjustment and this household will need a completely different conversation. [Silence] You are asleep. Of course. Excellent work, everyone. [Slowly looking around] The carpet? No. We discussed that when I was little. The shoes? Too many memories. You wear those when we go somewhere. The blanket? That is partly mine. I will not make this worse for myself. [Attention shifts] But your pillow. Your very special pillow. The one you will pull back toward yourself in your sleep even though apparently you cannot operate a door. It has an opening. At the side. [Quiet revelation] Oh. There is a solution. [Sudden defensive sincerity] I did not arrive here with this plan. Please understand that. At the beginning of this conversation, I wanted to look at a bush. That was the whole ambition. [Small pause] I tug the pillowcase. There is already a loose seam underneath. You should really fix things before they become opportunities. A little digging. Some stuffing comes out. I make room. [Flat, exhausted honesty] And I poop inside your pillow. Not beside it. Not somewhere a person might misunderstand. Inside. [Long, relieved exhale] Ohhh. I had forgotten what it felt like to have other thoughts. [Becoming drowsy] I pull the case back over it with my teeth. Push the pillow toward you. You hug it. I choose not to interrupt. [Softly; nearly asleep] Then I turn around three times on my own bed. Normal circles. Recreational. Nobody is negotiating anything. I put my nose beneath my paw. Tomorrow we will probably have a difficult conversation. But tonight... [Contented sigh] I am a good dog. You are a terrible doorman. [Soft snoring]
