Carlos

The phone rings. There’s no caller ID, but it could be a work thing so I pick up and say, “This is Michael.”

“Hey Michael, this is Bob from 205, we’ve got Carlos again. He was wandering through the building, and well, you really need to keep a better eye on him, because you know, he got out again… and anyway, we’ve got him, so…”

I don’t like Bob’s tone or the implication that I’ve somehow been derelict in my duties. But more than that, I’m not sure I’m the Michael he’s looking for.

“Ok, but tell me who Carlos is.”

“Your dog,” Bob says.

“But I don’t have a dog named Carlos.”

A pause.

“Oh,” Bob says.

A longer pause.

“So your dog isn’t Carlos?”

“No.”

“Sounds like I’ve got the wrong number.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Hmmm. Well, I better let you go. I’ve got to find the Michael who owns Carlos.”

Bob from 205 hangs up.

I hang up.

“Who’s Carlos? Christina asks.

“Apparently, he’s a dog and he’s hanging out in 205.”

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