In My Own Voice #41: I Am Not a Tool For Your Procrastination

The Woman sometimes has trouble settling down at her desk. I sense her agitation.

Up and down the steps she pounds carrying baskets full of clothes. Down she stomps with the clothes smelling of my family. A short time later she repeats her march carrying back up the stairs clothes wiped of all good scents.

She does the dishes.

She hops on her machine and walks endlessly in space. She sits on the floor with her eyes closed ignoring me. She picks up brightly colored sticks that seem to be quite heavy and raises them over her head and out to the side. She lies on her back. She sits up. She lies back down. Sits up again. Over and over and over again.

None of this is cause for concern until she stops and looks around for something else to do.

I sink deep into the sofa cushions, my eyes squeezed shut feigning sleep.

Does she not hear the rain coming down? The wind whipping the back door open and closed. This is decidedly Not a good time for a walk.

She needs to find something else to do while she procrastinates from sitting at her desk.

I will not be her excuse. Not this time. Just because a dog needs to be walked does not mean that any time will do. There is a rhythm. Times for walking and times for waiting for the storm to pass.

I hear the clink as she collects the leash from the kitchen. Her footsteps approach. I slit open one eye. She’s standing in front of me, dangling the leash as if she’s offering a treat.

I will my body to go limp. Heavy. I shut my eye again.

Sometimes this is enough to dissuade her. Go, I silently urge her. Go find something else to do. I will not be your accomplice in procrastination!

She’s lifting my head to find my collar. She’s clicking the leash to my tags.

I know when I’ve been out maneuvered.

A walk here we come.

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