Being First

‘It’s these mornings,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ I said, glancing around. It seemed like a lovely spring day, just the way I like them – as always, of course.

‘They’re too cold.’

‘Oh.’ For a moment I thought about telling her about winter. It seemed an interesting idea when it came to me yesterday.

‘It’s the damp ground. It makes me feel all stiff and cold when I wake up… and there’s this.’

‘Dew,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘That’s what it’s called. What I named it.’

‘D… dew? Really? Why…?’ She flicked some of the dampness off her thigh. Some of it landed on the man. He twitched in his sleep. ’At first I thought I’d wet myself… in the night. Actually, that is something else I wanted to ask you about?’

‘Yes?’ I sighed. This looked as though it would be a long morning.

‘I mean this whole food and the… the other business. It occurred to me if we didn’t have to put the stuff, the food and water in the one end, then it wouldn’t need to come out the other. Am I right?’

I nodded. ‘I suppose….’ I said, wondering where she was going with this one. The day before it was about how some of the animals have nice soft fur while she and the man had only their skin and the odd patch of hair here and there that didn’t seem much use, at least not to her.

‘Well,’ I said. ‘Getting the food and eating it and so on… well, it gives you something to do, doesn’t it?’ I looked around. ‘After all, there’s not much else to do, is there?’ I regretted it as soon as I said it.

She looked at me. ‘That’s another thing….’ she said.