I shouldn’t be standing here
She used to lay there, right between the fridge and the lazy-susan. We had to do this weird version of Twister whenever we were both preparing dinner with Rascal at our feet.
I couldn’t be standing here
Every morning, as I swung my legs out of bed, I had to be careful not to whack her across the nose. She was almost always there, snoozing by my bedside. I’d leave her there when I went to shower, and she’d always be in another place when I came out. More than likely, in front of the fridge.
I wouldn’t be standing here
More than a few times, while Liz and I were having a knock-down drag-out fight, right at the cusp of one of us leaving (perhaps for good), Rascal would interject with a loud, clear burp. And we’d take a step back from the precipice.
Tags: loved ones, pets, Rascal