textfiles/stories/toilet.s

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°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°MY TOILET, MY KINGDOM°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°Bill Luby
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The other day, I walked into the bathroom and saw my dog staring at
the toilet. Rilke's concentration was so intense that he didn't
even acknowledge me as I entered the room. When I looked at his
face, it almost devoid of expression; and although there was a touch
of curiosity and perhaps a hint of bafflement in his gaze, there
were no other clues as to what he might be thinking.
I have seen evidence of some analytical ability in my dog and enough
familiarity with the English language that I probably give him
credit for a much more complicated thought process than he is
capable of. Still, I have never seen him study anything so intently
as he had the toilet, so I thought I would amuse myself by trying to
figure out what he was thinking.
After contemplating the various activities associated with the
toilet and how they may interest my dog, it didn't take very long
before I hit on the obvious answer. Rilke is an animal who marks
his territory by going to the bathroom in strategic boundary
locations. Surely he assumes that humans must operate in the same
manner and has therefore has concluded that the only place I think
worthy of staking a claim to is the toilet. Of course he figures
that everything I do in and around the toilet must have some special
significance, none of which is immediately apparent to him. I can
just hear the thought ricocheting around in his head: "He can have
the stupid porcelain bowl for all I care, as long as I get to keep
the back yard."
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Copyright (c)1994 Bill Luby