Saturday, July 25, 2015

And life goes on...

We went to a bar.

Tino, Hellion and I.

That really seemed like the only thing to do. At that point I hadn’t eaten all day. It was almost 5 p.m.  My dog was dying.

If every there was a good time to go to a bar, this was it.

Tino was riding on my back in this pack, the way he likes to ride. He was also still to drugged up to really be any the wiser.

The bar was quiet, still early on a Saturday afternoon as it was. There was no waitress. I ordered us some drinks and some food.

We sat.

I tried not to cry.

Hellion made some jokes and took pictures of us.

I spent some more time not crying.

I had a drink.

I held my hand against my puppets head.

I knew that the next few months were going to suck.

“I’m going to London next weekend.”

“I know.”

“I was going to pay you to watch the dog.”

“I know.”

“I already booked you. I’m going to pay you anyway. It’s not your fault this happened.”

“I can still watch the dog.”

“No, I’m going to have the boy come get him. Better he be at home with him, than with you until we have a good idea of what could possible happen here.”


“It will be alright.”

We both sit. Silent and drink our drinks. The dog gets a dozen complements on our trip back home across the city. I spend Saturday night at home with him in my lap, thinking.

Two days later, Tino took off with the boy for Chicago.

Three days after that, I took off for London on my lonesome.

My apartment had never felt quite so lonely as it did for those three days before London.

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