The house is silent—just puppy and I awake. He lies
spread-eagled on the empty floor. His black eyes look through the dimness of
the sole kitchen light.
I stand at the counter, peeling the seal from a new jug of
milk. It comes off in scraggled bits. As the foil pieces fall, his head tilts.
His right ear moves backward at the tickle-swish sound of silver skating on
countertop.
Every detail fascinates him. He hears far-off sounds, sees
the things I’d never look for.
I smile at this foily, scratchy sound I wouldn’t have
noticed otherwise.
Secret puppy music.
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