Déjà vu. For some reason these prompt words for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 589 led me into a restatement of a blog I wrote 14 hours ago in what felt like the late hours of yesterday but what were really the early hours of today. It was to me as though I’d only thought it before and not written it down. It was only after I’d written this and reread the earlier blog that I realized I’d told the same story twice in different words. These are the prompt words you’ll find repeated below in the story:  lockdown watch danger hunt challenge glass flesh gathering disrupt murder craft cut

Life with Dogs

Well after lockdown, my sentinels are watchful for any signs of danger. Even after their eyes close and their flesh surrenders to sleep, their ears hunt for signs of murder, mayhem or possums. I am fully awake minutes after their last return from a wild charge out the space left by the sliding glass door which I have left open the width of the security bars so they can exit as needed, not to meet the challenge of intruders, but rather to execute those calls of nature which I am most sympathetic with, being of that age when at the least one or two calls of nature disrupt my sleep nightly.

Darkness gathers me into its arms as I close my eyes once more and finally find a position comfortable enough to remain in for the remainder of the night when once again, Zoe’s loud high sliding crescendo of a bark cuts through the darkness, her claws cutting into my stomach as she uses it for a launching pad off the bed and out the door. These are the movements of a gymnast performing her high leaps with seemingly no effort—more an art than a craft—and my ears strain to hear any noise of combat, any running feet or crashing through the bushes and over the wall. Instead I hear one high keening scream, quickly cut off. It is a sound I’ve never heard before and I imagine some small creature giving voice to its death protest or a possum giving a squeal of warning , but the dog is back again so quickly that I can’t imagine any combat has occurred.

Another past-midnight mystery of life with dogs. I roll over on my left side to reach over the side of the bed and lift Zoe up for the third time this evening, and when I do, Coco crawls into the warm spot I have left. Rolling back to the right again, I push hard against her to reclaim my space and Zoe moves into the space that I make on the left side as I do so, then walks with no guilt over my breast an stomach to settle herself into the cleft between my legs. I move them apart slightly to settle some of her weight onto the mattress and try to settle myself back to sleep.