I have a black dog.
He wakes me far too early, demanding sustenance, demanding attention, and won’t let me sleep at night. He whines, howls, barks at me; a constant noise in my head.
It’s just me and him, locked up together as I try to dress, or take out the rubbish, or put laundry into the washing machine. Me and him, whenever I go, always.
My black dog likes to steal my underwear and hide it behind the settee. He likes to push his wet nose into my dinner, and bury my mobile in the garden. I watch him helplessly.
We walk for hours, crossing busy roads and side streets, heading for the park and the woods beyond it.
I try to tire him out; but no matter how long we walk, once we get home he bounces off the walls, needing to be noticed, wanting to play. I just want him to leave me alone. I throw his ball, but he retrieves it and waits for me to throw it again. He wags his tail, always.
Nothing wears him out; awake all day, barking all night. I’ve started walking further and further with him. One day, I’ll just keep going.
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