"We'll get through this, Malcolm, we've been through tough times before."
"Yeah, but it's all hittin' us from every fuckin' angle! Every day some new shit springs up."
I sit on the floor and watch the man. He paces a lot. His voice is loud. He's upset and I'm upset. I don't dare wag my tail. The woman's voice is much quieter and I sit by her. I want to comfort someone. Anyone! The baby boy is playing with tiny cars on the floor. He walks on two legs now, much like the little girl. The little girl is doing something with a small, blue stick. She drags it across the paper and it makes shapes! She's coloring! What a good dog I am for figuring it out!
"They can't really fuckin' think we had anythin' to do with people gettin' murdered. They fuckin' can't."
I turn back to my owner. He looks down at me. I must go to him! I limp to him and sniff his legs. He doesn't pet me but that's okay because I'm focusing on sniffing!
"Mal, the children...."
The man sighs. He picks me up and I lick his face. He doesn't react to my licking and I quickly stop. Have I upset him? I hope it's nothing I've done to make him so stressed. He buries his face in my fur and I don't know where to look. He sets me down and I follow him as he makes his way to the children. The baby boy drops his tiny cars as he's picked up and the little girl puts down her blue stick. "Listen, Cara....I don't know how much of this Ross will understand if anythin'....but I think your mum an' I ought to talk to ya' about somethin'."
**********
What's wrong with my owner? His eyes are cloudy. Is he sick? Oh, I really hope he isn't sick! What if he gets sick and doesn't get better? I can't have that! He's holding something. It's a bottle but it's empty. I sniff it anyway and sneeze. I lick his hand. "Hey, Charlie...don't worry 'bout your old man, I've been worse."
He pets my head and strokes my ears. He sits on the couch and he looks so sad! I jump up to sit next to him. Where is the woman? I hear her sleeping. I hear the little girl sleeping. I hear the little boy sleeping. The whole world is sleeping but my owner.
"Must be nice bein' a dog...never a need to drink....course I like drinkin' anyway..."
His hands are soft. They're cold from holding the bottle. His voice is gentle but he speaks a bit slower than I'm used to. Maybe he's sleepy. I'll bet that's it. He works so hard every day that it's getting to him. He needs sleep. Maybe if I yawn, he'll yawn. I show him my long tongue and he doesn't react. He stares at the floor. Did he fall asleep? He sighs. He's awake. I lean up against him and he strokes my fur. I want to comfort him. I don't like seeing my owner sad. He's a good man. He deserves happiness.
