I came closer to dying last night that I have in a long while, when our furnace burst, and I slept for a full night in a house slowly filling with smoke and carbon monoxide. It was hard to wake up, and when I did, I went down to the source to try to stop the smoke. I felt poisoned and housefire sick all day.
Tonight, my house was heatless, waiting on the repair, but clear. I lay down with my pup on the couch and he put his head on my shoulder and stretched out alongside my body on his back, paws up, like he likes to do. He's turning all of a sudden into a real big dog instead of a little snugly puppy, and I'm remembered how big his breed will get. He still thinks he's a lap dog. He still thinks he's a dog that can lay his whole big sprawling body on yours and let you wrap your arms around him and that's just perfectly fine with him.
I thought that I should feel something about a legitimately skin-of-my-teeth near death experience, but I didn't. Josh said, "that's how people die in houses." I guess asleep in a house I love is probably not such a bad death as the ones I can imagine. The moon is very full.
No comments:
Post a Comment