Today I actually got up before the alarm went off. I know, mark it in your calendars. Today is clearly a day for strange occurances. I can’t even remember the last time I beat my alarm clock to wakefulness. Actually I have a better chance of still being awake when the alarm clock goes off than I do of waking before it. Clearly there is strangeness in the ether. So lets go with the morning prompt before it strikes again. Timer’s ready? Good, then lets go.
That was fun. Not where I thought I would go, but fun.
Thursday, December 17th: He seemed singularly disinterested.
He seemed singularly disinterested. I threw the ball and he rolled his eyes up to look at me. No other muscle on his long lean body even twitched.
“Isn’t that one supposed to be your favorite toy?” I asked.
His eyes rolled back down dismissing me as he turned his attention back to the empty driveway. I sighed. The neon orange ball in the front yard was too much for me to ignore so I stood up from the stair on which I sat and dusted off my behind before ambling into the yard after it.
“He’s not leaving you forever,” I told Sam the utterly morose boxer. It was strange seeing him this way. Normally he was a classic example of his breed. He had the sort of energy a hyperactive three year old would envy and had a hard time sitting still. He tussled with ropes, ran to fetch anything that was thrown and went into complete spasms of doggie glee when the hose streamed an arc of water out for him to play in. I thought about the sprinkler. I hooked it up especially for him, thinking it would be fun to watch him try to go after multiple streams of water at once. I wondered if it might cheer him up and then decided that if it didn’t I wouldn’t want to see it. The sight of him not fetching his favorite rubber ball was bad enough. Seeing him not enjoy the streams of water on a hot day would be too much.
“He will be back,” really,” I told Morris. He looked at me and tilted his head as though in disbelief.
“Why would I lie?”
Morris was only three years old I remembered when he came to live with Uncle Arthur. He was a tiny ball of fur that seemed to vibrate with energy and glee. I tried to remember if I had ever seen Morris without Uncle Arthur. I remembered playing with him in the yard and throwing the ball for hours until my arm ached. Morris was still ready for another round while I gave up in defat and joined Uncle Arthur on the porch where he had been watching.
I remembered arcing streams of water high into the air and twisting the hose this way and that so he could chase the falling water until Aunt Rose complained that we were drowning the petunias. Uncle Arthur was watching through the window from his recliner.
I sighed and rubbed Morris on the head. Since the day he was first brought home, Uncle Arthur had been with Morris. Uncle Arthur worked from home and Morris sat at his feet patiently waiting until work was done and it was time to play again.
When Uncle Arthur went out, Morris went with him. But not this time. This time Aunt Rose was at the hospital and needed to be picked up. She tripped over a tree root and landed badly on her arm, the bone snapping. Uncle Arthur needed to go with her so I agreed to stay with Morris until they returned.
“It should only be a little while,” I told Morris. He turned away and if anything slumped further onto the porch boards. Then without warning he sat up, snapping to attention. His head swiveled and I turned to follow his gaze. I heard a car approaching but couldn’t make it out. Morris identified it by sound. His stump of a tail started to wag and as the car rounded the corner I saw it was indeed Uncle Arthur and Aunt Rose returning.
Ten til Midnight 