Dos Abuelas Y Una Perro Cleaning Service

    I got up around 5am because the dog took a shit and vomited.  I tried to sleep through the smell, but I didn’t have the zen or the discipline or the courage.  I let the dog out.  I watched him run around.  He chased his tail.  He caught his tail.  That made him cry.  Then finally, he pissed on the neighbors lawn.

    I got back into bed.  The moment I closed my eyes, the shitty, vomiting dog, in one long pass, covered the inside of my upper lip, both nostrils, and the corner of my eye in a slimy lick.  I couldn’t see.  I couldn’t inhale.  My only defense was to fling a sandal blindly at where I thought he was.  He ran away laughing.  There was no more sleep left.  The stink and the stickiness outmatched the snooze button.

    There was no energy in my shoulders.  They hung onto my arms in a sad way.  I washed my face, dried it on a dirty t-shirt, and opened as many windows as I could.  There’s something nice about the morning sun.  It’s kind, loving warmth.  The way it clears the fuzz out of your vision like a mother with a slobbery thumb.  The long peaceful shadows it makes.  The birds like it and I don't mind the birds.

    I sat there in the sun for somewhere between seven and twenty minutes.  Then I went to plan B.  The coffee was brewing.  I didn’t wait for the whole pot to finish.  I poured a mug and put the kettle back in its place.  Coffee should be consumed black.  That’s how I drink it.  You can dash it up with those pink Cancer packets and spoiled milk, but that’s only diluting the drug in my eyes.  It’s meant to be powerful.  Bold, nasty.  An early morning slap in the mouth.

    The first cup didn’t work.  A dud.  I poured another cup and drank that down while watching the dog.  He was licking the floorboards.  Then he chased a drowsy fly until something else caught his attention.  I thought he might vomit again, this time on the carpet.  I yelled and did some arm flailing and chased him out into the yard.  On the porch I finished my coffee and watched him hack a golfball sized hunk of tennis ball fur out from the back of his throat.  He sniffed and re-ingested it before I could stop him.

    The third cup of coffee was lukewarm.  The first two had hardly worked so I poured the third over my head.  I dumped some of it into the collar of my shirt and the last little bit I drizzle like maple syrup into the front to my shorts.  It was effective.  I was perfectly lucid after that third cup of coffee.  The dog was taking a nap on his back. 

    I thought about waking him up, the way he’d woken me up.  After all that coffee, I was ready for a bowl movement.  My legs weren’t ready to be squatting and I didn’t know if I could manage a respectable wretch, so I called the whole thing off.  I let the dog sleep and wandered around the house thinking of things to do.

    There is some good that comes with being awake hours before your alarm clock.  It didn’t matter whatI did.  For another hour and fifty minutes, I was playing with the house’s money.  There was no dog to watch over.  He was all vomited out and snoring.  I could have made breakfast, but then there would be dishes to do.  No one wants to waste luxurious morning glory time scrubbing silverware.

     I snuck out of the house without brushing my teeth.  There was a cafe that served breakfast sandwiches so I showed up there.  I ordered a coffee to start.  Then I ordered a breakfast sandwich.  It came out on a croissant.  They cooked the eggs on a waffle iron.   I didn’t know it was possible to get scrambled eggs into eggo shape, but they proved me wrong.  Eight o’clock in the morning and I was already learning things and eating a breakfast fancier than I could have imagined.

    I got home and the dog had vomited again.  I didn’t worry about it.  He was already in the process of cleaning it up.  I’ll give him that — he’s a thorough cleaner.  If he had a driver’s license, he could easily get a job working for one of those cleaning services.  The ones where two ladies of Latin descent and a dog show up, all wearing aprons and hair nets.  They charge you a hundred and twenty-five bucks, but they leave your house smelling fabuloso.  They ladies scrub the appliances and the top of the refrigerator.  The dog takes care of any crumbs, rodents, or vomit.  It’s a good business model.

    At a quarter after nine in the morning, my alarm went off.  I turned it off and got back into bed.