Oogy_ The Dog Only a Family Could Love - Larry Levin [0]
To Oogy, of course, who has shared so much devotion, affection, and strength, and has trusted us so unhesitatingly and completely that it became another reward. Our spirits have been commingled, and we are all the better for it.
For all people who strive to comfort and help suffering animals: the lost and the frightened, the abused and the hunted, the abandoned and the captured, and those that should be in a better place than where they are.
CHAPTER 1
Morning
When the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m., it is still dark outside. Lying there, I take a quick mental inventory of what lies before me this morning. The boys don’t have to be at school early for a team meeting or to see any of their teachers. They don’t have to finish any homework or cram last minute for a test. As seniors in high school and already admitted to college, they are coasting to the finish line. In a way, they have already passed it. The breakfast table to raise money for the lacrosse team does not start until tomorrow, to coincide with the opening game of the season. So with both my morning and afternoon committed tomorrow, I have lots to get done today. But it also means that, right now, I have the luxury of hitting the snooze button for another ten minutes’ sleep.
The alarm seems to go off again in about fifteen seconds. I force myself to sit up. It feels as if I’m underwater, struggling to surface. I wriggle my toes and fingers, which I once read helps to keep you awake; I run my hands over my face and rub the sleep from my eyes. I nudge Jennifer, who without turning over asks for another fifteen minutes of sleep. Groggily, I push aside the comforter on my side; I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and drop to the floor. Stumbling around and over barely visible mounds of towels, sweats, T-shirts, socks, and athletic wear, I pass through the laundry room into the bathroom. There, I turn on the light, brush my teeth, and throw cold water on my face. Back in the laundry room, I pull off the T-shirt I slept in and put on a clean one from among the piles of clothing stacked up everywhere — on the built-in bench, atop the radiator cover, along both windowsills, and in front of the radiator. After a bit of a search, I pull out a pair of clean socks and sweatpants and lean against the dryer to pull them on.
I walk out of the bedroom, leaving the door halfway open behind me. From the landing on the second floor, I can see that the downstairs light is on. There are four couches on our first floor. On rare occasions, Noah and Dan will sleep on the same couch down there; sometimes they sleep in different rooms; but usually they’re both sacked out in the family room, one on the old couch, the other on the futon sofa bed, alternating each night. There’s no way to predict which one of the boys Oogy will have chosen to sleep with, but he’ll be next to one of them.
At the foot of the stairs, I first glance to my right into what used to be the living room. The doors are wide open, and no one is sleeping there. The lights in the family room, to my left, are controlled by toggle switches on the wall in the hallway; I turn up the rear bank of lights ever so slightly and peer inside. I think I see Noah stretched out on the futon opened up on the floor, wrapped in two blankets, which would mean that Dan is on the old couch adjacent to the rear glass wall. Behind Dan on the couch, stretched lengthwise, one paw draped over Dan’s shoulders, Oogy is barely distinguishable from the white comforter covering Dan. No one so much as stirs. I toggle the lights back down and click them off.
In the kitchen I put cold water into the coffeemaker, measure out coffee into the filter, and press the “on” button. The amber light comes on, the water roils, and the aroma of brewing coffee begins to waft through the air reassuringly.