Morning Fog

Tim swore quietly in the gloom of the house, following behind the silently marching border collie, excitedly tail-wagging its way towards the back door. It was that strange short period of morning, when the night sky first begins to give way to deep blue while the sun itself is still too far beyond the curve of the planet to be seen. But here Tim was, inexplicably conscious, taking the dog out for her regularly scheduled crack-of-dawn-pee. It was Javier’s fault that she was like this. He was the one that instituted the early morning potty routine. It was fine with Tim when he could simply turn and grunt whenever Javi got up at four in the morning for his shift, but now…

“Keep this shit up Innie and you’ll be an outside dog soon enough.” Tim said, same as he said every morning while the dog pawed pathetically at the door. Ingrid was the stupid name Javi gave her but Tim could never bring himself to call her that. If there was anything Tim hated more than dogs it was dogs with human names. It ‘suits her’ Javi would say when anybody asked about it and he left it at that, grinning like a jackass.

Tim opened the back door and the dog shot out, a blur of black and white fur. Already, the summer morning had brightened considerably, enough so that Tim could see the thick blanket of morning fog that covered the far end of his property and the woods beyond. Watching Innie snout around for that perfect spot of grass made Tim smile despite himself. He didn’t actually hate dogs, not all of them anyway. And though he was far from pleased when Javier first brought her home, Innie had grown on him over the years. From a barky little pisser of a puppy, she eventually evolved into a nearly obedient, mature adult. That helped a lot. Tim now mostly enjoyed the dog’s presence even if it did mean being awake at such an inhuman hour.

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