A Good Dog

A Good Dog

A man who really loved his dog had a routine whereby he would not even have to set his alarm clock.

The dog would reliably come to his bed and wake him up by licking his face every day at precisely six a.m.

The dog also brought his leash along that he dropped by the bedside before the wake-up kiss.

The man would get up, go downstairs, put out some dog food, make some coffee, open the door and while toasting a bagel; the dog would go out to bring him the morning paper.

The man and the dog would eat together, after which time the dog would fetch his leash, bring it to his master; then the two of them would set out for a two-mile walk.

The dog knew the way to go, as it was the same route every day, while the man would sometimes bring along a small ball to throw as well as his paper, which he could then read along the walk.

After the dog finished his business, or would sometimes even have a free romp, chasing the ball in a large vacant field, the two pals would go back home. Then as the dog curled up by the heater or the air conditioner, the man would go to work; but never before putting out some fresh water, a doggy toy and a few dog biscuits.

This routine took place every day; in the same way; come rain, wind, snow, ice or shine.

As the man went off to work, he would always look at his curled-up dog with great loving fondness, and as he merrily drove away to work would silently muse to himself:

  • Wow. What a great dog I have.

The dog, having had his food, his walk, his exercise, his toys and treats laid out; all predictably per schedule; as he comfortably fell asleep by the comfortable space heater, or near the fireplace or the fan, always went off to doggy dreamland with the comforting thought foremost in his head that he, in fact, had a great dog too.

Every dog has his day.

And a good dog might just get two.

(Thomas Pynchon)

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