Vox Nihilim

The dog is looking at me expectantly. I don't know why. I think maybe he thinks I'm onto some grand scheme where I do something really clever and take over the world. Or maybe I'm just projecting what I hope the dog is expecting of me, it's really too early to tell.

Or maybe, the dog, trapped in some weird Machiavellian metaphysical conundrum, is burning neurons trying to justify his own existence on this mortal coil. Perhaps the rise and fall of the tides within the space-time continuum are his to measure and mark. Tiny fluctuations in reality that are only perceptible to his keenly-honed canine brain. That would explain the pee spot in the kitchen. He was just busy with other things.

He does a quick circle and then sits back down. We make eye contact and instantly his tail begins wagging. So happy. So eager to please. Is that what all this is about? I look deeply into his dark eyes and try to fathom what it is I have done to inspire such loyalty. Such complete and utter willingness to turn himself over to joy.