9 May 2023

How time flies, it’s one o’clock already. Our appointment is at three-thirty. “I should shower.” I say to no one. I look at the mirror, “And shave.” It doesn’t matter to anyone but me, but it’s one more minor thing that I can do. I think I’ll wear a nice shirt too. Not one of my many work shirts with pen marks on them, but my nice, light-blue shirt, the one I wear when big wigs are coming into the office.

It will take about thirty minutes by car, and there’s nothing for me to do between now and then. I’m naturally nervous about this meeting and I don’t want us to be late. Although, if we are late, what are they going to do?

How do I pass the time between now and three o’clock?

I take my good shirt off; it was stupid to get ready this early. I throw on an old t-shirt and pick more mulberries from the backyard. I don’t know who likes them more, probably her. She loves her sweets.

It’s not long before she goes back inside to lay down. I’ve managed to stain my t-shirt, so changing was a good call. I set a bowl of mulberries down for later and eye the kitchen. I stuff all the dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the counters. I’ve not cooked anything in over a week, so it’s pretty meaningless, but I’m just killing time. I eye the fridge.

Is today the day I clean that thing out? It desperately needs it.

Nope, not now, I’ll just manage to pick up some funky smell and I’ve already showered. Ditto for the fish tank. My features are scary enough, no need to smell like some swamp monster.

Calliope is in tremendous discomfort, but she’s a master of hiding it. Over these last eleven years, I’ve learned some of her tells. I draw in a deep breath and hold it for a beat before releasing. Some people would find my tears ridiculous. When I was younger, it would make me want to lash out. But now, I just feel sorry for them. If they can have their cherished dog put to sleep and not feel this torrent of emotions, then I feel sorry for them.

Through my tear-filled eyes, she looks like an impressionist painting of my old bitch. I can’t even bring myself to smile at my often-used joke. I grab the collar and leash. “Come here Calliope, we don’t want you to be late to your own funeral.” Now I did it, my tears can fall on my bittersweet smile.