The day started with a magic act. It finished with a magic act also. Not exactly the sort of magic show one pays to see, like a woman sawed in half or a guy pulling a rabbit out of a top hat. But it did have stuff appearing out of thin air. And a volunteer disappearing into it – and reappearing.
The house was dark at 5 AM Friday morning. My wife was still dozing. Getting out of bed, even in the dark, I could make out no dog to (normally) step over as I went across the hall to the office to retrieve my cell phone. In skivvies and stocking feet, I skidded on something wet, and immediately let out a “@#$!!”. Barf. Or more precisely, partially digested dog chow which had been deposited right in front of my desk. No Comet was to be seen. Vanished. I hobbled on the ball of one foot out to the garage to retrieve a couple rags, a bucket, and cleanser. And dropped the soggy sock in a bucket by the washing machine. I had cleaned up the mess by the time Comet reappeared.
Coming home this evening after dinner with friends, our adult son, in a sleepy stupor, met us at the door saying Comet had disappeared. Into thin air. No door to the outside was open. The gates in the backyard were firmly secured. Looking at Dexter, he assured us that no dog was locked in a bedroom. There was some muttered apologies and excuses from the kid. Looking thoroughly outside in front and in back, Comet had vanished. “He’s not an outside dog” we puzzled. Where did he go?
Two minutes later Comet appeared at the front door. Like magic or like one of those television shows. Stupid pet tricks. Or perhaps a little passive-aggressive behavior. I haven’t been taking him on walks for a few days.
I had better treat my magic dog better. Perhaps if I take him on more walks, I can suggest something to pull out of a hat. Like a job or an apartment for my houseguest. Comet does seems to have a few tricks up – well, he doesn’t have sleeves.