Jack, and other things...

AJ set it up to take Jack to the vet for a teeth cleaning. He had to spend the night there. This was the other day. I missed him. At least it wasn't his first time. AJ was at the counter when the girl brought him out. I knelt, and he came to me, his brush tail moving swiftly over his back. He licked my face and whined happily. I took him out to let him pee. He squatted, held forth for some seconds. Now he is curled up beside me. He is watching me.

It feels odd. He is effectively my dog. He spends most (99.99%) of his time with me. But he is still officially AJ's dog. I buy his food, give it to him...but she pays the vet bills. Eventually, when AJ dies, Jack will be mine. If not for me, and the strong hand I provided him, Jack would be the most obnoxious thing on earth. Not through any fault of his own, but because he is too much for an eighty-six year-old woman.

He is now in the habit, every night, of going to AJ's chair to say good-night. I rise from the couch at eight, put on my jacket, grab my Mag Light, get Jack off the couch, and he goes straight to AJ to be petted. He's so smart. Once he learns something, he really learns it.

Aj is fading. Slowly. She fears death. Always been enamoured of the physical. Comfortable in her own skin. Thinks the physical is where it's at.

I guess all people, except for me, fear death. There is no death, because this physical farce is unreal.
Nothing unreal exists.

What I call "AJ" is a figure in my dream. So is Jack, of course. So is everything I think I see. In the part of my dream where I am a child, AJ was our favorite aunt, my siblings and I. Driving up from Los Angeles in her yellow Austin Healey. She was exotic, smart, opinionated, and seemed magical to us...and the neighborhood kids who gathered around her little convertible to gawk.

But today, she's a tired old woman, a shell of a shell of the dynamo she was back then. It wears her out to drive into town to do her library duty. Her back hurts almost constantly. Good thing she isn't real. Good thing this is all in my mind. Good thing I'm drunk.

Goose Ridge. I built a new sign for the house number. Painted it green, from the left over paint I used on the chicken house. I attached it to the stump where the old numbers were. This is much more visible. The old dog house, and the little cover for the pump, I also painted green. The address sign is great. I did a good job. AJ likes it. Four geese flew over this morning. They nest on the two respective ridges, north and south. They're noisy, but I love them. Every year they come, like old friends.