Late For Work
One of the problems with having a dog is that you can’t just wake up in the morning, get up, throw on some clothes and run out the door. Everything is a production. You have to walk him, wait till he shits, walk back, feed him, shower, change, say good bye and run out the door. All in all I need about forty minutes every morning just to leave my house.
Which on most days wouldn’t be a problem but today I’m playing catch-up. Which is what happens when you drink too much the night before, you don’t set your alarm clock, and you leave your car at work.
From the moment I woke up this morning, I was already an hour late. And I still had to walk my dog and feed him. Which was a problem because I didn’t have any food. And I couldn’t get him food because I didn’t have my car. So I left him at home, stranded in an apartment with nothing to eat but the couch, his toys, and anything else that his canine mind felt would satiate his appetite.
I wanted to return home. Bring him some food; make sure that he had at least something to eat. But work is work. And today, I’ve jumped from meeting to meeting always thinking about how I abandonded him. How he’s probably wondering why I didn’t feed him. What he did wrong to deserve this type of cruel punishment.
Or he ate my couch, which is what he did the last three times I forgot to feed him.
