poltergeist ovenbird My dog is at the vet’s for the day having a routine dental cleaning. Leaving him there involved a cinematic level of drama. When the vet tech came to take him into the kennel I could see the panic on his perpetually grumpy face so I offered to carry him back there myself but, apparently, I’m not allowed to do that. They took him from my arms while I fought the urge to scream, “I’ll never leave you!” If he had hands we would have been reaching for each other. He’s going to be there all day getting his cleaning and then being monitored as the anaesthetic wears off. I’m at home without him. His absence is a vindictive poltergeist startling me with loud disruptions every few minutes. I turn again and again, my mind searching for paws and whiskers and blundering old-man eyebrows in the place he always sleeps, and I crash into his not being there every time. I didn’t know what it would be, to love a dog, but it is this–a persistent state of searching for each other, my eyes catching flash of forefeet and twitch of tail, his catching nuance of knife that splits the sweetness of apple, pieces falling to the floor for his tongue to find, then two warm bodies curled together in a shape that means belonging. 250529 what's it to you? who go blather from