The apartment 
The hallway 
The dog
The woman
Her dog keeps running around in circles and she tells him to stop but he keeps on going. Over and over again. Will he drown in not knowing? Is he looking for his mother? Or is this his simple way of dealing with day and night; and again, over and over again.
Getting the dog, for her, was because she needed something to care for. Care about. Like the marmots in the hallway. The marmots were there, whining for attention. Although one day they disappeared, she kept everything going and fed them. Through time there was a pile of plates with rotten food in the shared hallway and her neighbors complained and said she was crazy. Outside of her mind. But nevertheless, she kept feeding them.
Her bedside lamp is crying, it’s a sharp and narcotic sound. He cries in a new voice, it sounds
like he is growing up. She counts the age of her dog in weeks, it makes the time pass by faster. 18 weeks, 19 weeks, 20 weeks, she lost track. Looking at the pictures from when the dog was still a baby, his head was round, his brain and eyes and mouth all squished together. And his ears are hanging low in his neck, out of proportion. Sometimes when he sleeps his ears lay upwards, she can look straight into his head. Quickly, she closes the ear, all the loud noises from the outside world will never fit into his small baby head.
The woman talks to the dog, in soft and warm voice:
“I take care of you, I will warm you, I will never forget you, I will always be by your side, I will be humble, I will love you forever, I will protect you, I will always support you, I take care of you, I will care for you.”

(Part of 'Walk the dog'.)