A friend lives in one of those lovely high rise apartments in Seattle, views out every window that she loves, gas fireplace in the living room that her little dog loves, heavenly set up except when her small and aging pet barks and wakes her in the middle of the night to demand a walk outside. Well, she’s had the doggie forever, worries about its creaky joints constantly, and does whatever she can to keep it comfortable.
So last week it woke her at 2 in the morning, woke her from a deep sleep. She stumbled around, managed to pull on her raincoat over her pajamas and stuff her feet into rain boots. Through half closed eyes she did find the leash, clicked it onto the dog’s collar, remembered to grab her keys, and then got them both onto the elevator. And then she leaned back against the elevator wall and got as near to sleep as one can while remaining standing.
And a friendly voice from overhead (God? mugger?) said, “Oh, is the little dog sick tonight?” She kept her eyes closed while she thought. She knew there was no one else on the elevator. It might be easier to pretend to herself she was still in bed asleep and having a bad dream. And the voice said, “I hope everything is all right.”
At that point she realized the voice was the building’s security man who could see her on the safety monitors. And when the elevator reached the main floor, there he was at the front desk, watching for her and so concerned about her dog she couldn’t tell him that she had spent a couple minutes wondering if he was God or a mugger.
Have you ever had anything like that happen? Sometimes people tell me real events that I am not sure anyone would accept if I put them in a novel.
