My dog had woken me up earlier, she had to pee. She sat panting at the side of the bed until I opened my eyes then she poked me with her nose. I couldn't ignore her, I knew she wouldn't let me, so I got out of bed. It was chilly so I put my bathrobe on and tiptoed through the house to the back door to let her out. I should say now before I begin that if you don't know me, I have two Boxer dogs; Cleo and Patti, mother and daughter.
This has nothing to do with writing a book, but as I was passing the kitchen stove I noticed it was 4:20 a.m. I turned the doorknob unlocking the door, Cleo pushed with her nose and out she scampered. Patti appeared from nowhere, her nose almost up Cleo's butt as they both descended the patio steps.
I sat at the kitchen table pulling my bathrobe tight and waited for them to do their business. I noticed the time again, as it flashed to 4:21. The first thing that came to mind was I should roll a joint. I searched my kitchen cupboards until I found my hidden stash.
There it was on the top shelf behind a bag of dried spaghetti noodles. A round cookie tin looking no worse for all the wear and tear with all the dints and scratches it had endured for the last decade or should I say decades.
I had lost my expertise in rolling, so the joint looked a little more like a cigar. The dogs were taking their time. I sat back watching them through the window smoking, inhaling deep and blowing it up into swirls through the first morning sunbeam that managed to shine down from the window onto the kitchen floor.
Oh, back on topic! I woke up this morning with this sudden urge to write another book.
Dog Brindle
