I am sitting on the old wood floor of the sticky apartment. Sticky for the heat, and sticky for the white plastic tub of paste I smother strips of newsprint with. The dog is running around in circles diving into the piles of paper. I plunge my hand into the crispy pile when he is far enough for it to be safe. Sailor has had a home here for almost 8 days, and his true colors are starting to peek out...and hump neighbor dogs, and wiz on the carpets.
So, I am building the beast they said couldn't be done. Cereal boxes, ballons, and toilet paper rolls make the skeleton that shapes the strong, verile, wild figure.

I can't sleep at night for it.
My job.