The Dog had an interesting perspective on things. This was probably because he lived completely in the present, something I’d never managed to do. The only thing that mattered was Now, and it didn’t matter what Next(as he called it) would bring.
We roamed around the house, sniffing anything that held our attention. This occasionally put us at odds with each other. The Dog and I shared a nose, and smelled the same thing in essence, but we perceived it differently. The smells were new to me for the most part, but occasionally I’d get something old and familiar. It happened as we were resting our head on the nearest lap. The smell of something sweet and bitter – Melancholy – wafted in first, followed by cinnamon, lavender and something else.
I was yanked out of The Dog. He looked at me with his brown eyes, but refused to lift his head off the lap. My mother sat on the sofa, absently stroking The Dog with one hand, and staring at the card in the other.
At first all I could see were incoherent shapes and blurs on a floating collective of dots. The Dog huffed, and shifted his head slightly. I concentrated, and the blurs flashed in and out of focus; I could only pick out a few words.
Join.. Celebrate… Life
She was looking at the program for my funeral.