My dogs see me putting my shoes on and jesus, it's all over. They are like two fat ladies in a bingo parlor fire. Oh! Oh! Goodness! (run back and forth at top speed) Heavens! Oh Dear! Please! (crash into table leg, spill splat of coffee) Can we..? Sweet Jesus...Me first..No, me... No (viciously start attacking each other in a tornado-like swirling funnel)
ENOUGH, I yell. I can't turn my head right or left because it makes me dizzy.
They instantly sit and stare at me, trembling; their fate entirely, wholly, completely, in my hands.
What the hell is so exciting? I ask them. You were just out there a few hours ago.
I stare at them. All I've been doing for three days is worrying.
They stare back.
Do you know I have a full list of legitimate reasons why I should not leave this house right now? Legitimate, sad, serious, troublesome reasons?
They continue to quake. One of them lifts his paw.
The fuck is that?
He puts it down.
They sigh and shift.
This is something we have in common, the sighing.
Okay, let's go.
They hurl themselves down the stairs with the force and sound of two carry-on pieces of luggage being thrown down a fire escape.
Life can be exhausting, but this is how the day should always be greeted.