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There comes that time every morning when the sentry duck which has been assigned to signal to the other ducks that the quack of dawn has arrived, that the visions in my head traverse a fine line between dreams and hallucinations.
Sometimes they’re pleasant.
Other times they’re fevered.
Most of the time they’re just plain weird.
They’re elusive all of the time, as I couldn’t even begin to describe them to you, nor would you want me to.
In the last month they’ve all been capped off with a running theme like that of a post credit tease you find at the end of a movie.
As those visions leave my head, I sit up and hang tight there on the side of the bed for a few moments to let my bodily processes boot up for the day. Once all of the virus and malware checks are complete, the virtual private network is activated to filter out any nonsense which will be thrown at me in the next eighteen hours.
That pressure in my nether regions signals that I need to empty my bladder.
It’s still dark in the bedroom, save for a crack in the door which is letting in light from the bedroom down the hallway.
As I navigate the darkness so as to avoid jamming my toe on the bed frame or other furniture, I catch a glimpse down the hallway through that crack in the door.
Standing at the end of the dimly lit hallway is the ominous silhouette of a magnificent beast.
The magnificent beast has sensed my arrival to the land of the conscious and has taken up a station there much like those twin girls in the hallway from that one movie that had that one guy in it.
The alternative is that the magnificent beast has been waiting there in the hallway all night while I slept.
Either way, patience is a virtue, and this magnificent beast is overstocked with virtue.
It’s a little unnerving to see it waiting at the end of the hallway. Yet I can’t stand there and marvel at the current situation. After all, I gotta pee.
After I relieve myself, I summon the courage to confront the dark figure at the end of the hallway. “Oh good, you’re up.” It utters to me. “Come on, let’s go outside. I gotta pee and I don’t have the dexterity, the know-how, the where-with-all, or the opposable thumbs to open the door.”
I open the door to the backyard starter kit not a moment too soon, and am beckoned to step outside. “No thanks.” I respond. “I don’t go out here unless I’m bursting at the seams and the two baƱos inside are occupado.”
Moments later, I’m outside watching Mag-B the SLab navigate a few figure 8’s and a cookie or two to find just the right spot to execute a stance which reminds me of Jeff Bagwell. Once the location and position has been satisfactorily established, the flood gates are opened.
A distinct hissing sound emanates from behind the grill. An acrid fragrance alters the ambiance of the October morning air. A satiated groan of relief builds in crescendo, one which usually presents itself in my own social media chamber, and not in the backyard.
Last month when Charlie the silver lab joined the organization, we considered changing her name.
We couldn’t do that though, because she knows her name.
Her behavior and training are all triggered on that neural pathway in that skull of hers which defines her as “Charlie” .
Unofficially, she’s Magnificent Beast the Silver Lab. Otherwise known as Mag-B the SLab.
