Monday, December 26, 2005
And my shy bladder kicks in. I can't go. I know that if I can just get started, it will be okay - my bladder is too full to stop once I've started. But it is cold, and I'm squatting in front of you, and you're watching, and it just isn't happening.
I know you're becoming impatient, standing out there in the cold, so I hang my head and force my abdominal muscles to push against my bladder. I push, and push, and finally, a trickle. But I know if I stop now, I'm never going to get started again, so I just keep pushing until my bladder is empty. It takes forever.
I look up at you when I've finished, and you let go of one of my hands to reach into your pocket. You hand me a couple of tissues to dry myself with, and when I've done so, you help me stand up.
I have the tissues crumpled up in my fist, and you smile at me, "Good girl." You use one hand to lift my chin for a kiss, and I feel as much as hear the snap of the leash onto my collar.
"Let's go." You turn to go back to the sidewalk, and I reach for your hand, only to find it occupied. You have the end of the leash around one wrist, and are holding it up out of the snow with the other hand as you lead me back to the sidewalk.
You hesitate near a trash can so that I can dispose of the tissues, then we start to walk toward the buildings. A large truck pulls in, blows his horn and waves, and suddenly the red in my cheeks isn't from the cold.
I know you're becoming impatient, standing out there in the cold, so I hang my head and force my abdominal muscles to push against my bladder. I push, and push, and finally, a trickle. But I know if I stop now, I'm never going to get started again, so I just keep pushing until my bladder is empty. It takes forever.
I look up at you when I've finished, and you let go of one of my hands to reach into your pocket. You hand me a couple of tissues to dry myself with, and when I've done so, you help me stand up.
I have the tissues crumpled up in my fist, and you smile at me, "Good girl." You use one hand to lift my chin for a kiss, and I feel as much as hear the snap of the leash onto my collar.
"Let's go." You turn to go back to the sidewalk, and I reach for your hand, only to find it occupied. You have the end of the leash around one wrist, and are holding it up out of the snow with the other hand as you lead me back to the sidewalk.
You hesitate near a trash can so that I can dispose of the tissues, then we start to walk toward the buildings. A large truck pulls in, blows his horn and waves, and suddenly the red in my cheeks isn't from the cold.
