Eyes flicker open, staring at the clock, unable to focus. Sunlight floods the bedroom, though, which means it's--rubbing my eyes, squirming closer to the clock--almost time to leave for work! Evidently I forgot to switch on the alarm. Head spinning, roll out of bed. I've never slept this late on a work day, ever, and as I stagger into the living room, my mind considers all the morning rituals I'm going to have to do without. Pretty much just time for a quick shower, I'll have to grab breakfast during my first break at work. But first things first, Elinore needs to go for her morning walk.
Elinore. Elinore? I stand transfixed before the picture window, the neon green of my front lawn deepens, grows brighter--
I wake up. Again.
The clock says it is slightly past midnight. Delmar and Monika sleep at my feet. The radio plays. A horn honks somewhere. I'm in my apartment. This is not a house where I once lived, and I don't have to walk a dog who has been dead for six years. This is reality. Isn't it?
I go to the bathroom, I drink a glass of water, I go back to bed--
--and am immediately standing in my living room again. The layout is slightly different then it should be, the TV is on the wrong side of the room, and when did I get a couch? What time is it, I wonder, then from outside, Elinore barks. I hurry to the door. A strange dog sits on the front step. Oh, right--Elinore must have been trying to chase it away. She hates other dogs.
"Go home!" I yell, and it dutifully scampers off. I turn to bring Elinore in, but she's not there. Her collar, frayed and undone, sits in the grass.
Panic! My first instinct is to call Mom to come help me, but no, I can't do that, Mom's no longer with us. Somewhere in my mind I realize that doesn't even make sense, that Elinore's been gone longer than Mom, but there's no time for rational thought. I have a dog to find. Running down the hill, calling her name in a choked voice, I'm met by every stray in the neighborhood, a barking, leaping whirlwind. They pass by me, and in their wake stands Elinore, shifting her weight from side to side.
"Come here, Baby Dog," I call, and she bounces towards me, then pauses. A gaping pothole in the middle of the street separates us, and she slowly climbs into it. I run to her but she is snuggled up quite comfortably in her hole, refusing to budge. She whimpers, she growls as I try to pry her out. I sit with her, her moist brown eyes stare back at me and I know I will never see her again.
