THE HUNDRED-AND-FOURTEENTH PAGE

He had the appearance of one who had lived in the great outdoors without benefit of bath or barber, so later that day while he slept in the sun on the front porch, I tentatively approached him with the garden hose. I began with a gentle spray, which awakened him briefly, very briefly. Under a greater stream of pressure his fur sprawled about him. Did he care? No. I wondered what dreams may come in his doggy brain when in the midst of my hose shower, he turned over on his back to his death mode. This was a bonus for the bath as I had been uunable to get at the tangled belly mass unless I hoisted him over by myself.

I could not allow him to stay in the house that night. A single turn of his mass would have slopped water all over the S’s of fiction. It was risky to leave him outside, but if he wanted to take up residency with me, he must become accustomed to living on the porch or in the yard. I was accustomed to being alone, and I didn’t need a yawning creature under foot. There was no need for worry because the next morning he was found heaped against the front door in his familiar death sleep and blocking my exit.