SHE WOKE ME UP

to tell me to go to bed while I was sleeping in my bed, so I got up. And now who was this, licking the dirty dishes in the kitchen? It’s Apple, my friend Shadow’s dog. She couldn’t sleep either. When she does, Apple is fitful, and a lot of us assume when a dog is whimpering and kicking in their sleep, they are dreaming of running in sunlit fields. But very likely, Apple dreams of an endless apartment hallway, and its tricky hardwood floors. 

It has been decided that I can never own another dog, but sometimes I take care of Apple, when my friend Shadow and his wife Wanda are out, for instance on a sex therapy weekend. There are no rules for Apple—she’s not my dog. I've been told she hates human males, and when we cuddle, there is this low growl.