Tick

Every time I check the clock it's fifteen minutes later. Although, sometimes when I check the clock it's hours later. I could sleep ten hours every night and still feel tired. I'd still be game for a nap early in the afternoon. Or late in the afternoon.

It starts with the whiny cries of the brown dog, generally beginning at exactly seven. Two bowls of dog food wait in the kitchen, unless we forgot to fill them the previous night. One heaping scoop for brown, one level scoop for black. I put the food in the cages, the dogs know to wait. I'll go feed Chairman Moe, our cat. He meows at me, but it comes out more like a bark. Still, the dogs wait. Black dog sits and starts to drool. Brown dog, back legs in spring-pounce position, front legs splayed, one ear up, one ear down, two excited eyes on me, is intensely focused. I say "OK" and their snouts plow through their food. A minute later black dog is released into the wild. Brown dog is released next, and he is wild. Time to play. Red Bone, Rings, tennis ball. Sometimes he heads straight outside. Normally, he's up for some morning romping. The growling is always free and plentiful, as is jumping and hyperactive tail wagging. Brown dog makes a good case for the tail wagging the dog. If any tail could, it would be his. He's a superball.

Every weekday morning I drive down the same road to the same place. It takes about twenty-five minutes. I normally listen to NPR because I like to hear the Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor. More often than not, I don't actually listen to it, but I like to hear that it's on. It's an easy drive. I quietly enter the building through the screen door and steel door. I take out my laptop and plug in the power cord and speaker cable. Sometimes the whole day passes and no sound comes out of the speakers. Sometimes I forget to turn on any music. Sometimes I remember. I plug them in every day. Later each day I head back home. Upon my return the dogs bark like wild barking dogs. They hear the car door or the squeak from the kitchen door. There is an occasional howl. Sometimes I can sneak into the house and they don't make a sound. It's only happened twice. At five, one of the dogs will let us know that it's time for dinner. One heaping scoop for brown, one level scoop for black. I put the food in the cages. The dogs wait to eat. I go feed Chairman Moe. Again he barkmeows at me. I say "Hello, Moe-cat." Still, the dogs wait. Black dog sits and starts to drool. Brown dog, back legs in spring-pounce position, front legs splayed, one ear up, one ear down, two excited eyes on me, is intensely focused. His tail beats the sides of the cage, then pauses. He drools, too. I say "OK" and their snouts plow through the food.