Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Tonight, I came home. I took M out. She took a long dump, the kind where she squat-walks the length of five or six feet, dribbling turd chunks here and there, then jumps up as if squirted freshly out of the womb, swiveling her head and stretching out her paws, crouching and then running in circles, full of child-like glee--mirth. She sniffed the piss-marked buildings, and tree trunks, and various detritus on the sidewalk, sometimes giving them a fresh coat of her own. She whined as we ascended in the elevator in anticipation of a treat, a nuzzle, a prance across the hardwood floor. She begged for the last remnants of the baguette we nearly finished last night, as I re-heated a bowl of chili. She turned away from baguette watch, toward the door as she heard the elevator clanking and someone arriving above. She waited and finally dropped her head sorrowfully. I took the almost-too-hot-to-handle yellow bowl out of the microwave and lumbered indifferently toward the couch. I turned on the TV as M darted up on the couch and turned methodically in her circle to snuggle up next to me only to then unravel herself to beg for food. On the cable channel that slowly illuminated before me was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The ending was happier than I remembered.