i don't know what to do so i put him in the kitchen. he pants and paces and i can't sleep 
and i can't keep taking him out all night. he's just gonna have to poop in the kitchen. sorry r. sorry mister i'm at my end's wits end.
3am, he barks and i bring him back to the bedroom.
4am, he paces, he stands in the threshold, he doesn't nudge me, he waits. i open the door he runs for the elevator, he can't hold it, he releases before we reach the thin strip of grass. he strains, he's got to be empty now. we come back in, i see a brown puddle in the kitchen.
clean, incense. a pill. he's laying on his green blanket in his corner, head under the dresser, i'm staring at the screen blank doom. is this how it ends, or is this just the end along the way, a day of abject misery. we'll see in the morning. oh, it's morning now...