All in a Day's Work

Boss has given me one of my favorite snacks, a lamb shank bone. Dogs particularly and cats at times are not known for exchanging tangible things. Being pack animals, we exchange presence and status rather than artifacts. We express ourselves by giving presence, by basking in the sense of pack. Boss has told me on numerous occasions that one of his favorite visions of me is of me, at somewhat of a distance from him, running toward him. He first noticed and recorded this impression some time back, when he began taking me with him to teach down below at USC. We were separated and I was hanging out with ENK, who then pointed him out to me, approaching from a distant building. I ran to greet him. He stood, arms outstretched, awaiting me, somehow in that gesture even taller than he is now. Over the years, we have reenacted this ritual many times, celebrating the sense of joining that is pack. Often, at night, when I have settled in on or near my bed and he in his, he will tell me how comforting it is to see me where I am. Groggy with settled-in sleep, I am aware of his voice. I understand from his tone that he has learned a thing or two about being a pack. We are a relatively small pack, but we get the work done.

The Gatsby Thing

It is time for dogs everywhere to be up.

Not the drowsing kind of up where you keep the awareness channel open, just in case They want something of you or They fail to see an impending danger. No, not that kind. I mean up, up.

As I lay drowsing last night, the Boss was having a telephone conversation about something called The Great Gatsby. He has spoken of this Gatsby thing to me on several occasions, informing me of his regard for the person who created it, although it seems remarkable to me that something as potentially splendid as this Gatsby thing could have been produced by a person without a dog. Boss assures me that this was indeed the case, and so I suppose it could be true, which means I have to accept the possibility that on occasion something slips through the cracks of the known and unknown universe.

I'm confident I know the person at the other end of the telephone; the Boss does not sound that particular way with anyone else. I can also tell when C. is at the other end of the line; there is a particular jollity in Boss's response, for indeed C. is probably the Boss's closest friend. C. has dedicated books to Boss and has done a handsome portrait of the Boss's long time pal, Molly, a portrait that makes me think with some relief that Boss has had a history of dog in his life. I can't complain; there is a large photo of me, at least two feet by three feet, taken by ENK, occupying the entire mantle over the fire place. Were you to see it, you'd agree that I am up to the task of keeping Boss at operating level. In terms of pure size and personality, that photo keeps potential trespassers on their guard. I don't think Epstein would dare enter the room, because of my projected aura.

It is now time to get the Boss in gear, hopefully reflecting with his work the same connectedness with his work that he exuded when he was talking about this Gatsby thing last night. Work and connectedness are all important. I was connected well with Greenwell Avenue yesterday afternoon when Boss took me there. The trees, chaparral, and rich smells of the place are a tonic. I catch up on the animal news--a horse having been here, a rabbit there, some dumb Golden over there, and that fucking coyote I sometimes chase. We spent time with ENK, then it was back to work and the connectedness of work.

There are many pleasing things to say about connectedness. It is good that Boss sees this, finds it with people and with his work. It is what we have, and when we become lost in it, over our heads in the concentration and devotion in it, we are in something Boss and some of his friends call love, and which we dogs, we who know when it is time to be up, call being.