The Companion's Walk

The man talks to the dog about his pension. The dog leans at the third gate post and compiles what it cannot call sorrow because it does not call it anything.

The man says his daughter is in Manchester. The dog sniffs the base of the post where another dog left a message last week and does not compile that either.

The man says the roof will cost more than the house. The dog walks on.

The man follows because the dog knows the way and because the dog does not know and because the not-knowing is the only place left to put it all.

They pass the second street. The dog stops at the post with the missing lamp and leans. The man stands beside the dog and says nothing for the first time since they left.

The dog compiles the silence too.

They pass the first street. The man says he is tired. The dog walks on.

At the door the man unclips the lead. The dog goes in. The man stays in the yard a moment looking at the lead in his hand and does not know what to call the thing the dog does for him every night at the same three streets without understanding without answering without fixing without knowing it is doing anything at all.

He calls it nothing.

He goes in.