Joli in the Morning

It’s morning. Dark. Got to go out.

Toenails click on hardwood as I get him.

I smell his warm breath. I sense he has heard me.

Soft nose poke. Poke. His hand gropes for my head. Ah, he’s awake.

Joli, go lie down. Lie down. I’ll get up in a minute.

I return to my warm spot. I lie down and wait.

I can’t really go back to sleep.

Got to go out. I click over to him again. I stand still and stare. Soft poke. His hand, again.

OK, I’ll get up.

I trot to the top of the stairs and peer out the window to the darkened street. I hear him get out of bed and walk down the hall behind me. He enters the bathroom and turns on the light. I trot in as he sits down. He scratches me behind the ears. I move closer.

Good morning, my dog. Are you the best dog in the world? Come here, my dog.

More head scratches, then a full back scratch as he pees.

I turn around and he scratches right above my tail. Good. Goood. I wiggle my butt back and forth so he gets all the right spots.

Got to go out. I trot back to the top of the stairs. I hear him putting on his clothes.

I go back to check. He’s putting on his shoes. Got to go out.

Soft whine.

OK, I’m coming.

I run to the stairs and down. He follows. He turns on the lights, puts on his coat and stands by the stairs. I run up two steps to the landing and give him my head so he can fasten my leash. I jump down and race him to the door. He opens the door and we are out in the cold.

The morning smells and the fresh air bring me to full alertness. I raise my tail and trot to the sidewalk ahead of him. I smell Shepard tracks in the snow at the sidewalk. Male. Old.

Paw prints in the snow. Is it a cat? A skunk? I sniff carefully. I female dog I don’t recognize. I pee on the track.

I trot leisurely up the street. Is that a stick in the snow over there? I check. Yes. I grab it and tug it out. A stick. My stick. I show it to him.

Got a stick? Give me that stick.

He pretends to chase me. I pretend to run away. Small play growl. We trot up the street as he pretends to grab my stick.

He can’t get it. I run ahead with my stick. At the corner is a fireplug. A lot of dog sign here. I smell five other dog neighbors. Male Golden. Male Pit Bull. Male Boston Terrier. Female Pharaoh Hound. Female Pit Bull. I know them all. I pee by the plug as he catches up.

WAIT.

I stop and sit on the curb. I look down the street. There are never any cars out this early.

OK.

We cross. I stop at a street drain. I smell prey, small. Always here. I never see it.

A nearby large bush is a hiding place. More dog signs. The Shepard again. I drop my stick and pee.

We head back down the street. We approach the house with the cats. I slow.

Any cats today?

I stop and peer into the dark. There are many cat-sized shapes to watch. Any movement?

OK, let’s go.

I’m pretty sure that’s a cat on the porch. I stand completely still and look.

I don’t see any cats. Let’s go.

I think it moved. He tugs gently. I want to look some more. That’s a cat, I’m sure.

Come on, Joli. There are no cats today.

He starts down the sidewalk, reaches the end of my leash and pulls me firmly. That’s a cat, I know it. I don’t want to give it up, but he’s pulling me. That cat is watching. I’ve got to get it.

LET’S GO, JOLI.

He gives a sharp pull on my leash and my head comes around. I follow. I catch up.

There is more dog sign at the small garden wall. The same neighborhood dogs. I pee again.

We’re almost back. I grab a new, smaller stick. I turn to the street right across from home.

WAIT.

I sit and look up the street. Still no cars.

OK.

I gallop into the street with my stick. He chases after. Play growl, shake, louder play growl. He chases, hand out to grab my stick

GIVE ME THAT STICK.

I gallop. I shake the stick and gallop. He can’t catch me. We run into my yard.

I smell my own scent everywhere. I need to check for new smells. By the bird feeder I smell a strong scent of squirrels. Many squirrels. I look toward the trees, but nothing moves in the dark. I smell a neighbor cat, wait, two cats. More cat sign at the edge of the back deck.

We move back down the yard into the darkness. Snow crunches under paw.

Hop in, Joli. Go to the bathroom. Hop in.

I carefully walk into the garden. I sniff until I find a clean spot. I squat and poop.

Good dog. Take your time.

I’m finished and circle away. We run slowly back to the house and onto the porch. I turn and survey my street. Nothing is moving. I hear a car. I don’t see anything. He stands quietly next to me. We listen. Nothing. The breeze. Nothing. A small sound. Nothing. A cold brush of clean air. Listening.

OK, sweetie.

I turn and push my head against his leg. He unfastens my leash and opens the door. Warm air and my home smells pour out on us. We go in and he closes the door. Home.