trained well

Less than an hour after I took my pup out for a decent walk, she paces the floor of our small apartment, from the couch to the front door, one end to the other. As she walks in the direction of the door she looks at me with her RubySmile, as if to train me: “Look, I’m smiling as we walk towards the door! See? Now think, dad – where does the door go? Understand what I’m trying to convey here? Door = outside = potty = me smiling! Now I just need you to come with me, turn those things that make the door open. Okay? Here, let me show you again.

and again.

I try to ignore her. I need to get my daily writing done, and I know if I get up & come back I’ll go straight into work instead of doing this, and likely not ever get to my daily writing, no matter how I assure myself that I will. This commitment will just fly in & out of my consciousness like a mosquito when you’re trying to sleep, making me know in no uncertain terms that I didn’t follow through on a commitment today & taking my focus away from what I need to be working on.

She’s got it down. the click of her claws on the hardwood floor, back & forth & back & forth like Poe’s pendulum, slowly slicing away at my patience to the point where I would do anything to have it stop, and knowing that I have at least 50 words written I consider this writing done and gods make the clicking and pacing STOP and that’s IT I don’t even care if I end this in the middle of

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