Upload It To The Cloud

Let me start by saying I don’t have any pets. I’m a selfish mofo who can barely handle taking care of myself.

My office pet is technically my sister’s office pet who I steal time with being that my sister & I work in the same office ‘space’ (our rented home).

Her technical name is Luna, but I don’t trust anyone who calls their pet by its given name. Therefore, she has at least twelve others, the most prominent of which is Lunesta, which has virtually replaced her original name and is what I will be referring to her as for the remainder of this acclaimed piece of literature.

Wait, you ask, isn’t Lunesta the name for that sleep drug with the weird commercials involving a tender, vaguely creepy moth alighting on your face as you dream?

Yes, I answer, with a wink and a nod, which you find odd and honestly a little sus, but at this point, you really want to hear the rest of the story about this mythical beast, so you attempt to push it from your mind and humor me.

The fact is, dear reader, if ever a somnambulant drug manifested in the form of an animal, it would be this one. Lunesta immediately bestows an aura of calm and overwhelming sanctified wellbeing to all that she touches or vacantly licks. Her effects are so powerful that when we are out and about, people stop and constantly ask if they may be given the honor of touching her silken fur (I am sure that they then go on to experience strange luck and worldly fortune) ‘This dog is so well-trained,’ they marvel, which makes my sister swell with a mostly unfounded pride, seeing as Lunesta hasn’t actually been trained so much as eerily sedated by some otherworldly inner force. She is a natural-born therapy dog, a large benevolent stuffed animal who tolerates everything and everyone. Many of the members of our family have expressed the desire to steal Lunesta for their own. They laugh when they say this, but their eyes are covetous and cunning, and we lock the doors when they leave.

Lunesta is a rescue animal my sister acquired through her previous job of veterinary technician. Due to this, we cannot actually be one hundred percent certain of things like her exact date of birth or whether or not she is actually of this earth. She is at least half Great Pyrenees and it shows in her gentle nature, and in the fact that she weighs almost eighty pounds.

Despite her girth, Lunesta believes heavily in being very close, standing and sniffing mildly into your face or attempting to share a one-person seat with you.

But how, I hear you yell, does this mystical creature impact the smooth workings of a home office?

Well, I say, waving my hand at you because yelling is rude, I’ll tell you.

I don’t remember when I first heard about the concept of The Cloud. It seemingly cropped up overnight, some years ago. This nebulous invention was a true testament to the permanent transcendence and the horror of the internet. Put something ‘on The Cloud’, and you had access to it forever, from anywhere. So, potentially, did the internet at large. It is my understanding that to this day, no one truly understands how The Cloud works, or what it is fully capable of. It is known and passed down among scholarly types that anything worth backing up was worth transferring to this ‘Cloud.’

One day I was sitting on the back deck, attempting to motivate myself to get back to work, when I realized something. My gaze locked on the fluffy white beast wandering around the yard.

Lunesta is just like a giant white cloud, I thought. Just like her internet counterpart, she is mysterious and unknowable and you can sink all of your ideas and fear and concern into her soft white fur, where it is never seen again.

When I am coming down from a panic attack or feeling down, I can sit beside the Lunesta Cloud and put my arms around her neck, burying my face in her fur. Like most dogs, she does not understand hugs or why we need them, but unlike most dogs, she stands perfectly still for the duration of your entire little human breakdown.

This applies not only to life, but to work.

The Cloud has an extremely busy work schedule. She is incapable of being more than 3 feet away from my sister’s side at any time, so if I have a question for her I travel across the hall from my own office to hers. Lunesta sits on the end of my sister’s bed while my she is at her computer, in the same exact position all day, officiating and presiding over operations. Despite this, she is always ready to provide feedback in a pinch, for which I am eternally awed and grateful.

If I present my latest piece of writing to the Cloud for scrutiny, she will sniff at the draft before gently attempting to take it in her mouth like my ideas are packed inside a fragile egg close to bursting. Her interest to absorb my work for the good of humankind, uploading it to her database, is admirable. Sometimes, she will be busy, serenely pulling the stuffing out of one of her toys or smelling her own crotch, but even then she has time to briefly assess anything placed before her. Sometimes, she will give you or the paper a passing lick. A lick is luck and means only good things.

If I show the Cloud my latest achievement in the world of wood sign craftsmanship, she examines it closely. Can I chew this, her soft brown eyes query. Not now, I tell her. Her tail wags slightly and she puts her head on her paws again. I know I am not yet talented enough to be worthy of such praise, but my chest fills with hope all the same.

Sometimes, when I am lost or need inspiration or motivation, or quite frankly freaking out over some interaction or other, I can go and sit beside Lunesta. Unmoving, she merges her presence seamlessly with the klonopin I took that morning.

It is my firm belief that this Cloud of ours has achieved the thing the Buddha and Jesus achieved, except minus forty days of pilgrimage, asceticism and isolation. She looks- and often behaves- as though her head is full of the sweetest sawdust, but inside of her are countless flash drives buzzing with knowledge we people cannot access. There is literally no discernible way to get on her level.

I close my eyes and dip into the well of information inside of her, while she grunts and puts a paw on my knee. Minutes or even mere seconds later, I leave feeling revitalized creatively. New ideas, centuries of backed-up wordless wisdom, have transferred from the warm bulk of the Cloud into my brain as through osmosis. I have uploaded my concerns and received something in return. I might not leave knowing how to proceed, but I always part from her knowing that I will somehow.

(Thanks for reading! In an ideal world, we would all possess our own Lunesta, but hopefully you were able to absorb some of her chill vibes through the screen. Hearts, tips and subs are always much appreciated! xx Raist)