The days turn into nights
Arlene now sleeps in our bathroom with the door closed. This keeps her pacing to a much smaller venue. Inevitably, she wedges herself between the toilet and the wall – the evidence of her there is the nose line along the white wall. This morning she got underneath the stool and dragged it clanging and scraping the hard floors. What possesses a dog to wedge into a corner, to pace endlessly, to drink maniacally? For…