wait

The dog waits for me by my feet, while I ramble about what to write, in between a bite or two at the german bread while I contemplate on the next feeling. It must be infuriating for him to wait for someone while they find meanings and words, and you're desperate to fulfill such basic needs. How maddening it must be to wait the whole day for someone and dream about the time in which the person will arrive, and then wait a little more while this bastard decides whether she wants to take you out for a walk. What a drag it must be for a creature to digest (anything, food or feelings) in this uncertainty. If he does not love me, I understand why. But he remains by my feet, patiently waiting for me, looking in awe to my eyes. I wish I could understand his loyalty, because it has been such a long time since I gave up believing my door will ever open again.

There is pee in this floor, and you know it.