Domestic Disturbance

It wasn't long after my nap, and my dream about waking, that I was shown the door. Sure I had it coming, even if it was a little early for that. But the kids were asleep and she was shuffling off to bed, so why expect anything more. I shouldn't have left my food untouched, but it was dry and I hate to eat alone.

Outside I was like an ancient forager, hunting but never killing, my stomach a chortling mess of regret. I laid on the porch (it seemed like the best place to go) and felt the moisture of the evening gather itself about me as I watched the stillness. Movement captured my attention, it always does, but tonight it stayed away as I took in the dancing critters of the night. 

I don't know how long I slept, but when the shower came on inside the house, I stretched and yawned my way to the door, watching for the first light in the kitchen. When that flicked on, I stood by the window, expectantly. This is usually enough, though sometimes I have to tap. It's typical the way he ignores me, and obvious to the point of cruelty. But when he's finally done with his fussing and packing for work, he lets me in and forgets that my bowl is empty.

Comments

[paulavano]

Poor Pavarotti!!