SOMEBODY COMES INTO POSSESSION OF A DOG THAT HE INADVERTENTLY TEACHES TO SPEAK, BUT ONLY [ONE] WORD, AND ONE BY ONE EACH SOUND IT MAKES BECOMES THAT WORD, DRIVING THE OWNER TO MADNESS
He coos and I find subtle ways to stop the water from spilling over the banks of my eyes and onto his bristling skin. The way he says my name—the way he’s able to say my name without pause, without regret. His bitten fingernails trace across my side and he does it again. A deep breath. Exhale. “Oliver.” With his entire body. If I could shorten time. If I could cut the last month out of my mind and focus just on his weight against my ribs. Close my eyes. Take him in. If he would just stop saying my name.
