Friday, August 18
Today my human smelled really terrible. The dog park was awesome, and I romped and chest-bumped with a female pit bull mix, and after that we went to the house with the wood floors and practiced dog school. Then I did a “down, stay” by my human’s feet while she sat and stared at papers. There were unfamiliar men in the house swiping at the walls with harsh, chemically scented stuff. My human fidgeted restlessly, and she hyperventilated, and I could hear her heart pounding in her chest. When her brother returned we ran away to our car quickly, like we were fleeing from danger, but my human’s sickness stalked us relentlessly. Later we did my library job and visited Jade, but my human’s scent just degenerated to a whole new scary low. She did not sleep a wink the entire night. I dozed shallowly, one ear trained on my human. Every time I startled myself awake by snoring too loudly she was scratching at her ankle, until her skin gave off a raw odor that was almost meaty, like she used to do in the car back when we played “paw.” I snuggled in closer to her and nestled my head into the crook of her arm, resting my chin on her ribcage. She didn’t seem soothed or catch the hint to stop worrying me when I just wanted to get a good night’s sleep.