I approach her. She smiles at me and caresses my head, then goes back to
her work. I walk into the living room and look at the others. They ignore
me as they lounge on the sofa, one staring at the tv, the other dozing,
drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. Sometimes they understand,
but today they don’t seem to share my anxiety. The feeling is getting
stronger now. I run back to the kitchen, trying to get her attention. She
thinks I just want something to eat. I’m starting to get really impatient,
and fidgety. She gives me something to drink. Food and drink are the last things
I want right now. I start to run around the house as my heart beats faster.
My tongue curls and my breathing speeds up. The pressure is intense.
Doesn’t she realize there will be a catastrophe if she doesn’t listen to me?
I run up to her this time, touch her knee and look at her with pleading eyes. She
still doesn’t get it. There is only one thing left to do. I start running in circles and
scratching the carpet. Finally she looks. She gets my leash.
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