I was sitting on the toilet and as usual, Coltrane barged in the bathroom. he barged in like he had to talk to me about something. But he's a dog, so he can't talk. Instead, Coltrane sat between the tub and the sink and started staring at me. I’m sitting on the toilet, trying my best to avoid eye contact but he keeps staring at me. He watches me, so I watch him back. Our stare off goes on for about another 30 seconds until I’d finally peaked and asked, "What do you want dog?"
He motioned his head upwards, which meant he wanted me to pet him. Why he'd chosen that particular moment to decide to be affectionate is beyond my reasoning. But I didn't have anything else to do, and it wasn't like I was going anywhere for a while, so I obliged. I stroked his head and scratch behind his ear. His fur felt icky. I smelled my fingers and they smelled a little funky, like unshaved armpits that had been playing sports all day under the hot sun.
"Dog, you stink," I said to him, half expecting Coltrane to respond back.
Instead, he looks at me and started panting through this wide mouth grin, which makes it look like he’s laughing at me. Oh, he thinks it’s funny.
“Go Away Coltrane, I’m serious,” I yell.
He moves to the bathroom door but just before he walks out, he turns to give me the biggest, doughiest, orphan dog, sad eyes I have ever seen. Now he’s playing on my emotions. Still bored and sitting on the toilet, I called him back and proceeded to scratch him some more, hoping that he would stop looking at me that way. As I scratched behind his ear, he wiggled his leg, which let me know that it was feeling good. When I reached a spot around his neck, he wiggled his leg harder. Maybe it was feeling a little too good. Then I felt it. A tiny little ball rolled against my index finger. I located the spot on his neck, dug into his fur and picked it off. It was a flea. Heavy sigh. I shooed him away again and finished my business. Eight o'clock on a Wednesday night (a work night at that), I had decided that I needed to wash the dog.
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